


That's A Christmas To Me!

by flowercrownfemme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All Girls Except Niall, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, As With All My Fics: Is It Crack? You Be The Judge, Business Lady Harry, Butch Liam, Butch Louis, Butch/Femme Dynamics, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Magic, Christmas tree farm, Cozy Winter Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Farmer Louis Tomlinson, Femme Harry, Femme Zayn, Fluff, General Hallmark Ridiculousness, Girl Direction, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Jay Is Not Louis' Mom, Nuns, Orphans, References to Christianity, feral wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownfemme/pseuds/flowercrownfemme
Summary: Harriet Styles is an uptight business woman who doesn’t have time for Christmas, not when there’s business to do and phone calls to make! Her plans to work all the way through Christmas are ruined when a terrible snow storm strands her in the tiny Christmas-centric town of Evergreen Falls. With all the hotels booked up for the holidays she must stay at the local Christmas tree farm owned by Louis Tomlinson, an attractive Christmas-loving lesbian. The pair are at odds due to their differing views on the holiday, but can they still fall in love with a week until Christmas? It’s a Hallmark movie, so yeah!!Featuring all your favorite Hallmark Christmas staples, such as: unspecified Business, mistletoe, sick orphans, feral wolves, a disregard for the many valid reasons someone might not celebrate Christmas, magic and Santa!
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 67





	1. Prologue: A Workaholic’s Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my Christmas fic! This is just a short prologue but I will be updating the chapters every day until Christmas and they are all much longer! Every chapter is written to be happening on the day it is posted so if you'd like you can read along as it happens or you can wait until Christmas and read it all together! <3

All across the western world people were preparing for the holiday season, hanging lights and knitting sweaters and roasting chestnuts. Outside the weather turned colder, snow threatening to fall, and people walking on the streets held hands through thick woolen mittens. It was a time of joy and cheer, but at the top of a sleek gray office building Harriet Styles was punching numbers just the same as any other day of the year.

“Here’s the report on the Martinson sale,” Veronica said, laying down a stack of papers on Harry’s desk.

“And here’s your coffee,” Niall said, holding out the steaming Starbucks cup. Harry took it without looking up from the screen of her computer. She kept typing with one hand, her neat manicured fingers tapping swiftly across the keys while she took a sip, making a face as she pulled the cup away.

“What is that?” she frowned, finally looking at her assistants. 

“It’s a gingerbread latte,” Niall beamed, folding his hands behind his back. “It’s festive!”

“I asked for a black coffee,” Harry reminded him icily. “Like I have every day since I hired you.”

“Don’t be such a Grinch,” Niall laughed easily. “Christmas is in eight days. You can afford a little cheer.”

Harry rolled her eyes but took another sip of the drink.

Niall always knew exactly how many days were left until Christmas. He had a big advent calendar on his desk and he was always trying to offer Harry the chocolate of the day when she passed him on her way to her office. It was sweet of him, but Harry didn’t eat sweet things. She ate grown up things, like kale and broccoli.

“Speaking of,” Veronica cut in, tapping the screen of her iPad. “Your mum called again. She wants to know if she should expect you on Christmas Eve or if you’ll get there on Christmas Day again.”

Harry bit her lip guiltily and turned back to the computer.

“Tell her I won’t be there until Boxing Day at least.”

“Harriet,” Veronica frowned. “You aren’t going home on Christmas?”

“I can’t,” Harry shrugged. “I’m flying out to Toronto tomorrow and I won’t be back until Sunday, then I’ll have to fly down to London to go over it all in meetings. There’s just no time.”

“There’s always time for Christmas,” Niall told her.

“Not for me,” Harry sighed. “Time is money. If I want to keep this company afloat I can’t be taking unnecessary days off in the middle of our busiest season. Can one of you double check my flight for tomorrow? I can’t miss this meeting.”

“I’m on it,” Veronica nodded, already tapping away to secure the details.


	2. Stranded For Christmas

Harry had never understood people who hated flying. Airplanes were like a small vacation to her. She had hours of business podcasts saved up to listen to and a small stack of magazines to read. She was just settling into another issue of  _ Business Lady Monthly _ , flipping distastefully past the centerfold of Steve Jobs wearing only an apple watch, when the plane began to rumble. Harry used her finger to bookmark an ad for rubber bands promising the tightest sleekest hairstyles in the boardroom, and frowned towards the cockpit.

“ _ Ladies and gentlemen, there seems to be some unforecasted weather, _ ” came the voice of the pilot over the intercom. “ _ We’re going to be making an emergency landing up ahead until we’re sure it’s all clear. _ ”

All around her people were talking nervously, tightening their seatbelts and gripping the armrests, but Harry just groaned.

“Excuse me,” she said, flagging down a flight attendant. “Do you have any idea how long this will take? I’ve got to be in Toronto tonight. I have a very important meeting to get to.”

“I can’t say, Miss,” the girl told her with a sympathetic smile. “Weather is hard to predict.”

“No it’s not,” Harry frowned. “They do it every day. There’s a whole segment on TV just for predicting the weather. I have an app on my phone.”

The girl just shrugged, maintaining her bright smile, and walked away to help a young man who was looking queasy.

By the time the plane touched down Harry was fuming in her seat, mentaly dictating a strongly worded email to the airline.

“You need to find me a flight out of here,” she said tersely into her phone, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for her luggage.

“I’m trying,” Veronica told her on the other end. “It looks like every flight is canceled.”

“Then find me a car to another airport,” Harry scowled. “There’s got to be a flight to Toronto out of someplace bigger.”

“I’m sorry, Harriet,” Veronica said. “There’s a huge blizzard coming through. It’s snowed in everywhere. Even the roads are closing down. I can’t find a single flight within three hundred miles of you going anywhere.”

“Look again,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Miss?” said a young man in a uniform shirt. “Are you H. Styles?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, looking up from her phone. “Have you got my suitcase?”

The man winced.

“I’m sorry, no. We can’t seem to find it.”

“You  _ lost _ my luggage?” she said, her grip on her phone turning white knuckled.

“Um, it, er, does appear to be lost,” the man said, seeming to shrink in on himself in fear. “If you’d like to come to the, em, information desk we can, uh, take your information down and call you if we, um, if we find it.”

“Get my assistant’s number from the airline,” Harry growled. “Call her  _ when _ you find it.”

Harry turned on her sensible beige pumps and swept away in a cloud of fury and hairspray, the wide legs of her sensible green pantsuit swishing angrily around her ankles. Her computer had been in her suitcase, along with all the files she needed for her meetings.

“Veronica,” she said, bringing the phone back to her ear. “Call the offices in Toronto and tell them I have to postpone. I need you to find me a hotel room. And an Ann Taylor.”

“I’m looking,” Veronica told her. “I’ve got Niall calling every place in town but it seems like they’re all booked up until the new year.”

“Then I’ll find one myself,” Harry frowned, ending the call and pushing through the glass doors of the airport, stepping out to look for a cab. She pulled her camel hair trench coat tighter around herself and stepped up to the curb. Storm clouds were brewing ominously in the sky and she could feel the temperatures dropping.

The only other building that she could see was a run down looking diner across the street from the tiny airport. Evergreen Falls, which Veronica had listed as Harry’s current location, was a tiny town smack dab in the middle of nowhere towards the eastern coast of Canada. It was more of a village, if what Veronica said was true. Most of the year it was just a little blip that people drove past on their way to a bigger city, but for some reason people flocked to it every December.

Harry saw a cab driving towards her in the gloom and raised her hand to flag it down, shivering as her coat fell open and the cold air filtered through the thin fabric of her forest green suit. She stepped closer to the curb as the car approached, waiting for it to slow. Instead the car kept driving, the wheels hitting a puddle of water on the edge of the cracked pavement and spraying Harry with a wall of freezing cold sludge.

Harry screamed, standing frozen in shock as the car drove away, leaving her alone once more.

“I can’t  _ believe _ ,” she muttered under her breath, wiping the water from her face and flicking the droplets from her hands. She dug around in her Gucci purse, searching for a tissue or an old napkin to clean herself up with and finding nothing. Harry let out a loud frustrated groan and stepped off the curb, her heels clicking as she crossed the street to the diner.

“Oh, Honey,” the waitress said when Harry walked inside. “What happened to you?”

Harry just frowned, a small puddle forming beneath her from all the water dripping off her clothes.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“It’s right over there,” the girl told her with a thick American accent, her words rolling out with a syrupy sweetness as she pointed to one corner of the diner. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll grab you something warm to drink.”

“Coffee,” Harry told her as she passed. “Black, please.”

“You’ve got it,” the girl - Kacey, as printed on her nametag - smiled.

Harry set her purse on the sink of the bathroom and glowered at her reflection in the mirror. Her carefully sculpted bun had gotten loose and her hair was a mess of frizzy fly-aways, mascara smudged under her eyes and making it looks as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. Harry grabbed handfuls of paper towels from the dispenser and dried herself off as well as she could, her pantsuit still soaked through despite her best efforts to pat it dry.

When she returned to the diner the waitress pointed her towards an empty table with a tall white mug of coffee and a muffin on a small plate. Harry slid into the plastic booth and sagged back against it as she took a long gulp of coffee.

“Hard day?” Kacey asked from behind the counter where she was wiping up a spill.

“Quite,” Harry nodded, closing her eyes. “You don’t happen to know of any hotels around here, do you? Apparently I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

“I expect everything’ll be all booked up,” Kacey told her sadly. “Did your flight get canceled? I just heard on the radio we’re expecting the worst storm in fifty years this week.”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry grumbled. She looked out the window at the darkening sky. It was nearly night time, and the storm was setting in fast. “I need to find somewhere to sleep tonight or I’ll be stuck on a bench in the airport.”

“There might be a room at Tomlinson’s Trees,” the girl told her, pursing her lips. “I think I remember Liam saying they weren’t going to take any guests this year. They might be willing to take you in seeing as it’s an emergency.”

“Do you think so?” Harry asked, hope building in her chest. “Do they have a number I could call? Where is it?”

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Kacey smiled. “I can take you there myself, if you’d like. I live just down the road.”

“That would be wonderful,” Harry told her, starting to relax for the first time in hours.

“Great, I get off in twenty minutes.”

When they drove up to the farm in Kacey’s truck Harry thought they might have fallen into a snow globe or some kind of pop up book about Christmas. Behind the low wooden fence stood dozens of acres of Christmas trees, now dusted with a thick layer of snow. As they got closer to the large farmhouse they passed all kinds of plastic reindeer and wooden signs painted with Santa’s smiling rosy face. The house was done up to the nines, evergreen garlands and strings of lights hanging from every surface and an elaborate wreath placed on every door.

“There’s Liam!” Kacey grinned, pulling up in front of the house and cutting the engine. Someone was walking through the snow with a whole Christmas tree slung over their shoulder as if it was nothing. Kacey hopped down from the seat of the truck and closed the heavy door, making the tree-bearer turn in their direction.

“Hey, Kacey!” The tree was dropped easily to the ground, revealing a bearlike woman with a likely handknit stocking cap on her head and a wide smile on her face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Harry followed Kacey out into the cold and shut the door behind her.

“Oh, hi!” the woman said when she spotted her, pulling off her right glove and rushing forward to shake Harry’s hand, nearly knocking her over with her enthusiasm. “I’m Liam!”

“Harriet,” Harry told her, returning her friendly squeeze with a firm businesslike handshake.

“Harriet here is stranded for the night,” Kacey explained to Liam. “All the flights are down with the storm and every room in town is booked. I was hoping you and Lou might let her stay the night.”

“Of course,” Liam said earnestly. “This storm is nothing to mess with. You can stay as long as you like. I’m sure Lou won’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Harry told her. “I really appreciate it.”

“Come on in,” Liam said, waving her towards the house. “Lou is just making dinner. Would you like to eat with us, Kacey?”

“Nah, I should be getting home,” Kacey smiled.

“Alright, well have a safe drive,” Liam told her. She turned back to Harry. “I can grab your suitcase for you?”

“I don’t have one,” Harry said stiffly. “It was lost at the airport.”

“That’s a shame,” Liam frowned sympathetically, guiding her into the house as Kacey started the truck back up. “I’m sure we can round up some necessities for you.”

“That would be very kind,” Harry said, stepping through the door that Liam held open for her. Immediately Harry was surrounded by a blur of brown and white fur, knocked back against the wall as big heavy paws pressed against her shoulders.

“Hey! Down!” Liam barked, pushing the two big dogs back down to the floor. The pair of them looked up at her with big eager eyes, tongues lulled out and panting. Liam leveled them with a stern look. “You should know better than to attack our guests.” She turned back to Harry with an apologetic look. “Sorry about them. I wish I could say they’re not usually like this.”

“It’s... fine,” Harry said, straightening her coat primly.

Liam introduced the curly poodle mix as Clifford and the big wolfish white husky as Pasta. She pulled the stocking cap off of her head, revealing a close cropped buzz cut.

“Here, let me take your coat.”

“Li, is there someone with you?” called a light musical voice from the next room.

“Yeah,” Liam called back, helping Harry shrug out of her expensive trench coat. “We’ll have to set another place at the table.”

Liam hung her coat on the rack by the door and guided Harry towards the kitchen where a warm savory smell was wafting out in mouthwatering waves. Standing at the stove was a woman in a thick red jumper, the hems of her jeans rolled up to show off fuzzy mismatched socks. Her hair was cropped short in the back, showcasing a long slender neck. Harry froze when the woman turned around, two bowls of stew in her hands, unleashing a blinding smile and a pair of impossibly bright blue eyes.

“Hi there,” she grinned welcomingly, setting the stew on the small kitchen table. She wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans and held one out to Harry. “I’m Louis Tomlinson.”

“Harriet Styles.”

“I told Harriet she could stay with us tonight,” Liam said, pulling out the makings of an extra table setting. “Her flight got snowed in.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry said. “Kacey said you weren’t planning to take in any guests.”

“We weren’t,” Louis told her, making up a third bowl of stew. “Usually we rent out our extra rooms over Christmas, but Angel was the one who handled all that and she’s, er, not with us this year.” Louis glanced back to Liam who was pointedly focused on the table. “You’re welcome to stay the night here. We wouldn’t leave you out in the cold.”

Louis pressed the hot bowl into Harry’s hands and nudged her towards the table with a light hand on her back. They all sat down and dug into the stew, blowing on their spoons until it was cool enough to eat. They made small talk as they ate, asking about where Harry lived and talking lightly about their days while Clifford and Pasta sat beside the table with big pleading eyes.

“I hope they open up the airport soon,” Liam told Harry around a bit of tender beef. “Were you heading home for the holidays?”

“No,” Harry said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin while she swallowed the bite in her mouth. “I’ve got meetings in Toronto all week. I’m supposed to be there tomorrow. If the snow doesn’t clear I’ll have to find some way to call in. I lost my laptop with all my luggage so I’ll need another way to do a conference call.”

“You’ve got meetings the week before Christmas?” Louis asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I’ve got meetings  _ on _ Christmas,” Harry laughed dryly.

“That’s such a shame,” Liam frowned sadly. “Won’t you get to see your family?”

“I’ll see them later,” Harry said, waving her hand flippantly as she took a sip of water. “I’m not so big on Christmas.”

“Sounds like it,” Louis scoffed, crossing her arms.

“What?” Harry frowned, seeing the distasteful look on Louis’ face. “It’s not illegal to not like Christmas.”

“It nearly is around here,” Liam joked, looking uneasily between them. “Christmas is big in this town.”

“Of course it is,” Harry sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I hate it. I’m just too busy for it. I let my assistant put up a plastic tree in my office, it’s not - ”

“ _ Plastic? _ ” Louis repeated, looking as though she’d been personally insulted.

“Yes,” Harry nodded matter-of-factly. “I’d never let him bring in a  _ real _ one. There’d be pine needles everywhere.”

“That’s what makes it smell like Christmas,” Louis argued.

“They’re messy,” Harry said. “And they make some very nice plastic trees nowadays. They’re very realistic.”

Louis just snorted, shoving another spoonful of stew in her mouth and taking her bowl to the sink.

“Liam, I trust you can show our guest to one of the rooms,” she said, walking towards the hall. She glanced back at Harry with a withering look. “We can discuss payment for the room in the morning.”

“What did I say?” Harry muttered as Louis stomped up the stairs to the second floor.

“Louis really likes Christmas,” Liam told her, lowering her bowl and letting Pasta and Clifford share the rest of her stew.


	3. Christmas On The Tree Farm

“You've got to get me out of here,” Harry said into her phone, pacing back and forth in the tiny bedroom. “This whole town is like a Christmas movie or something.”

“Sorry, Harriet,” Niall told her, the grin obvious in his voice. “No luck.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she scowled. “As soon as I get back I’m firing you both.”

“No you won’t,” Veronica said.

“C’mon, H,” Niall laughed. “Where’s your holiday spirit? It’s the season of giving!”

Harry growled.

“All the airlines are shutting down for at least a week,” Veronica reported. “They say the storm will last until at least then. You’ll just have to hold tight until it passes over.”

Harry sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Did you talk to the Toronto branch?”

“I did,” Veronica told her. “They’d heard about the storm on the news so they understood. I told Mr. Schultz you’d be giving him a Skype call later today so he can go over everything with you and schedule a conference call. If you can find a computer to borrow everything should be all good to go.”

“Good,” Harry grumbled. “If they even  _ have _ computers in this town. There are oil lamps in this room they gave me.  _ Oil _ lamps.”

“Our only computer is out in the shop,” Liam told her when she asked, nodding apologetically towards the little shed that they used as a store front for their business. “You’ll have to ask Lou if you can use it.”

“Of course,” Harry muttered. She hadn’t seen the woman since the night before when she stormed away from the dinner table. Liam had been very kind when she lead Harry to a clean room and offered her a set of towels, an unused toothbrush and an oversized t-shirt to sleep in.

‘Sorry about Lou,’ she’d said in the doorway. ‘She can be... Touchy.’

“There’s no chance I could get you to ask her for me?” Harry asked, shining her biggest cutest smile.

“Sorry,” Liam smiled, gesturing to the piles of tree branches and coils of wire around her. “I’ve got a huge order of wreaths to fill. I’ll be working until midnight at least.”

“Alright,” Harry said, deflating.

“She’s not so bad,” Liam assured her, looping wire around the wreath in her lap. “She’s a softy, really. You’ve just gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“I’m sure,” Harry sighed, gathering up her coat and looking uneasily at the tree stand outside, already blanketed in snow.

She could feel her toes turning to ice as her pumps crunched over the snow. Even if she’d had her luggage she hadn’t been planning to spend time anywhere other than her hotel and the boardroom so it wasn’t as if she’d packed snow shoes. She had to step carefully to keep from slipping on every little patch of ice. Her pantsuit wasn’t holding up well to the weather either, especially not after being soaked through the day before. It had only barely dried when she put it back on that morning, the fabric stiff and scratchy and smelling of street water and mildew. Without fresh clothes the shower she’d taken with Liam’s borrowed toiletries felt as if it had barely made a difference, other than to leave her hair damp and cold in its tight bun.

The shop had probably been a detached garage at some point, renovated into a cheerful little Christmas cottage with white washed wood panels and strings of bright naked bulbs. There was garland strung across the front where the rolling door was pulled up and a beautifully decorated tree in the corner for show. There were shelves holding plastic stands and tree skirts, as well as boxes of lights and ornaments. It was simple, but it had a sort of rustic charm that even Harry could appreciate in the back of her mind.

Louis was standing behind a tall desk in the middle of the shop, a clunky desktop computer laying heavily before her.

“Oh good,” Harry said in lieu of greeting, “you’ve at least made it to the twentieth century.”

Louis looked up with narrowed eyes.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning aren’t you, Harold?”

“Harriet,” Harry corrected, closing in on the computer like a shark. “Does that connect to the internet?”

“You seem like more of a Harold,” Louis said, ignoring her question.

“Well I’m not,” Harry said, bristling. For reasons utterly beyond her reach blood was flowing to her cheeks in hot waves. “I need to use your computer. It’s for business.”

“Sorry,” Louis said, turning back to the screen. “No can do. I’ve got clients scheduled to come in any minute now and I’ll need the computer to enter the sale before they go.”

“Can’t I use it until they get here?” Harry frowned, craning her neck to see that Louis was playing a game of virtual solitaire.

“I’d love to let you, Harold,” Louis simpered, glancing up through the front of the shed, “but here they come now.”

Harry watched as a truck with big chains on the tires drove up the long driveway, little hands and faces pressed against the windows and blowing clouds of excited condensation on the glass. The second it came to a stop a pair of children leapt from the cab, sliding on the ice and snow as they ran towards them.

“There you are!” Louis grinned, meeting them at the entrance and high fiving them both. “I was wondering when you’d get here. I was starting to worry there’d be no trees left!”

“Are we too late?” the boy asked, his eyes like silver dollars. “Are the trees all gone?”

“Of course not,” Louis smiled, ruffling his hair. “I saved the best one just for you.”

“Hi, Louis,” the kids’ mother greeted, smiling gratefully when Louis took their hands to help steady them on the slippery ground. “Thank you for making time for us. I know it’s getting late in the month but we just haven’t had time to get a tree yet.”

“Of course, Cathy,” Louis grinned, letting the children hang off of her. “You know you’re all welcome here anytime.”

“Um, Louis?” Harry called when the group started to walk away, hovering awkwardly near the desk. “While you’re with them do you think I could - ?”

“Oh, how rude of me!” Louis said with a small laugh. Harry straightened up, almost relaxing when Louis continued, “Cathy, Jim, this is my assistant for the day, Harold!”

“It’s Harriet,” Harry smiled stiffly, narrowing her eyes as she gave the couple a small polite wave.

“Come along then,” Louis said, waving her over to follow them. “We’ll need all the muscle we can get.”

“Oh,” Harry balked. “No, I was just going to - ”

“Grab that saw by the counter for me, won’t you?” Louis asked sweetly.

The family was all looking at her expectantly so Harry sighed and picked up the heavy saw, trailing after them and losing feeling in her toes within three steps. They were all bundled up in heavy winter coats with woolen scarves around their throats, clunky boots tied on their feet with thick rubber treads on the soles. Once again Harry felt silly in her nude heels and her designer pantsuit, shivering and sliding with each step. She looked enviously at Louis in her knee-length downy coat and her plush cable knit sweater, most of her rosey face obscured by a pom-topped beanie and a soft red scarf.

“And how about this one?” Louis asked, gesturing grandly to a scrawny leafless tree that probably wouldn’t support a hummingbird’s weight.

“No!” the boy and girl shouted in unison, laughing and pulling on the hem of her coat.

“Are you sure?” Louis asked with a very serious look on her face and her hands on her hips. “It’s well within your budget.”

“No!” they shouted again.

“We want a big tree!” the girl told her.

“A green one!” the boy added.

“Hmm,” Louis said, rubbing her chin as if deep in thought. “How about... This one?”

She pulled them over to a lovely fir tree, towering over them all at nearly ten feet tall. The boy and girl gasped, circling around it to inspect the lush foliage, dusted with a healthy dose of snow for the perfect picture book look.

“Do you think this will do the trick?” Louis asked. “I still think that other one would look rather fetching in your living room.”

“This one!” the children cheered.

“Louis,” the mother said softly, a small frown on her face. “This one’s much too big. I thought I mentioned on the phone, we can only afford a small tree this year.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll ring you up for a little one when we get back.”

“But Louis - ” Cathy said, taking her husband’s hand.

“You know I love Dylan and Lily,” Louis smiled, watching the children crawl beneath the branches of the tree. “And besides, you’ve got tall ceilings. You need a big tree.”

“Thank you,” the father told her earnestly.

Louis clapped her hand on his shoulder and approached the children, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

“Are you ready to take her home?” she grinned.

“Yes!” they called, rolling back out from under the tree. “Yes!”

“Harold?” Louis looked over her shoulder and held out her hand expectantly. “Unless you’d like to do the honors?”

“Oh!” Harry said, stumbling forward and handing over the big jagged saw. She watched with wide eyes as Louis pulled off her coat and knelt down to the ground, scooting on her belly until her top half was hidden by the tree. Dylan and Lily crawled down to join her and she explained what she was doing to them, the sound of the saw on wood ringing out. Harry stepped back to where Cathy and Jim were watching and tucked her hands into the silk-lined pockets of her coat. From further back she could see more of Louis through the branches, her arm flexing where her sleeves had been pushed up and her back arched to give herself leverage.

“Are you helping out all season?” Cathy asked, a friendly curiosity on her face.

“Oh, no,” Harry shook her head. “Just today. I’m staying up at the house until the airport reopens. My flight was canceled.”

“That explains why you’re not dressed for the weather,” Cathy smiled kindly and Harry blushed.

“My luggage was lost,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I was afraid I’d be stuck sleeping in the airport but luckily Liam and Louis were willing to take me in.”

“I’m not surprised,” Cathy told her. “Those two are the kindest people I’ve ever met. Especially Louis.”

Harry nodded vaguely, looking back at where Louis was laughing beneath the tree.

“She’s so good with the kids,” Cathy continued. “We’ve been coming here since before Dylan was born, she’s practically an aunt to them both.”

“How old are they?”

“Dylan’s seven and Lily will be six next month,” she grinned proudly.

“They seem like sweet kids,” Harry said, seeing the reverence in their eyes when they looked at Louis.

“The sweetest,” Cathy nodded, squeezing Jim’s hand.

The wind kicked up and Harry shook with a violent shiver.

“Here,” Cathy said, reaching up and undoing her pale pink scarf.

“No, that’s okay,” Harry tried to wave her off but Cathy was already placing it around her neck, the warmth of it making her shiver even harder at first.

“My sister knits excessively,” Cathy told her, “I’ve got more scarves than I know what to do with. Please, take it.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, pressing her chin down into the soft yarn.

“It’s good for Louis to have someone else around,” Cathy said, turning her gaze back to where her children were bracketing Louis on either side.

Harry frowned.

“What do you - ?”

The children came scurrying out from under the tree and ran towards them, holding onto their parents’ legs.

“I think it’s time,” Cathy told Harry with a grin.

“Jim,” Louis called, peeking out through the lower branches. “Would you like to finish her up?”

“I would love to,” Jim laughed, sauntering forward and taking her place at the base of the tree. Louis held the trunk of it steady for him while he sawed through the last bit, calling  _ Timber! _ as it fell to the side. Louis shrugged back into her coat and the two of them lifted the tree between them, Jim taking the heavier end, and started merrily back to the truck out front. Dylan and Lily ran alongside them, each holding a single branch and feeling very important. Harry trailed behind them again, holding the saw. The wooden handle was warm in her hand where Louis had been gripping it.

Louis rang up Cathy inside while Jim tied down the tree in the bed of the truck.

While Jim got the kids strapped into their seats and Cathy thanked Louis again for her generosity, Harry grabbed a box of fairy lights and two bags of the peppermint bark lined up on the counter in the shed. She waited until Jim was starting up the truck to slip the items in beside the tree, tucked in the corner so they’d be safe for the drive home.

When she turned around Louis was looking at her oddly.

“I’ll pay for them,” Harry told her as the family drove away. “I made a note of the price. You can add it to my tab for the room.”

“Alright,” Louis said, her eyes still narrowed inquisitively. “You can use the computer now.”

“Oh,” Harry said, looking back at the shed. “Right. Thanks.”

They walked back inside and Louis entered the passcode for her, pulling over a tall stool and stepping back so Harry could take a seat. Harry tapped around until she found Skype, glad to see the computer wasn’t so old as not to have a webcam.

“Here,” Louis said, making Harry jump. There was a thick quilted blanket in her hands and she was holding it out towards Harry. “It’s freezing out here with the door open.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with furrowed brows, slowly taking the blanket and draping it over her lap.

“You’re going to need real shoes,” Louis told her, frowning down at where her feet were hooked on a rung of the stool. “I’m assuming we’re not getting rid of you any time soon, not the way this storm is building up. You’ll need boots. And a real winter coat. Your feet are going to fall off if you keep wearing those, or you’ll twist an ankle at least.”

Harry didn’t say anything. She just kept looking at the twisted little frown on Louis’ face.

“We’ve got some old clothes in the attic,” Louis continued. “I’ll find something for you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said again. She felt like she’d said thank you more in the past twenty four hours than she had in months. “That would be... Nice.”

“Sure,” Louis muttered, the same strange look still on her face.

Harry watched as Louis retreated back to the house, her hands buried in her pockets and her shoulders up by her ears. Harry wasn’t used to women like Louis and Liam. She was used to perfectly coiffed hair, shining with gel and hairspray, and pantyhose and pencil skirts. She was used to fake smiles and long manicured nails, not kitchen scissor haircuts and bulky sweaters. Harry was a lesbian, just like she assumed both of them were, but she was a different kind. People didn’t usually know that Harry was a lesbian, not the way that everybody probably did when they met Louis and Liam with their worn flannel shirts and clean faces. Harry never knew what to do with that sort of lesbian, wasn’t sure if she was supposed to tell them she was one of them when she didn’t really feel like _ one of them _ . The other lesbians she’d known had always been more like her, with long hair and polished nails and at least a small collection of cocktail dresses. She couldn’t picture Louis or Liam ever wearing a cocktail dress.

Harry jumped when the sound of a Skype call rang out, quickly selecting the answer button and forcing a bright smile to her face.

“Mr. Schultz!” she greeted when the older man’s face appeared on the screen. “How good to see you. I trust Veronica explained my reason for missing our meetings this week?”

When Harry walked back to the farm house there were pine needles everywhere. Liam was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, a huge pile of completed wreaths at her back and what looked like half a forest torn up on the floor around her. Her plaid shirt was covered in little green sticks and some were clinging even to the short velvety hairs on her head. Liam didn’t even look up when Harry walked in, too immersed in the wreath in her lap. Harry hung up her damp coat and stepped carefully around her, avoiding the foliage all over the ground. She made her way up the stairs to her room, planning to call Niall and Veronica about her call with the Toronto branch.

When she stepped into the guest room there were three pairs of lace up boots lined up neatly at the foot of the bed and a small stack of folded clothes on the quilt. Harry picked up one of the pairs of men’s Levi’s and held them up to her waist curiously.

“Those were Liam’s,” Louis said from the doorway, startling her. “They’ll be big but we’ve got belts.”

There was a warm looking white jumper in her hands and she set it beside the rest of the clothes.

“I forgot to ask what size shoes you wear,” she said, gesturing to the boots with her toe. “Let me know if none of those fit.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, folding her arms over the pair of jeans.

Louis looked at the pile of clothes then glanced up at Harry, frowning.

“Right. I’ve got to get back to work. Tell Liam if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Harry said again as Louis left the room, closing the door behind her. Louis had started a fire in the little old fashioned stove below the window for her so when Harry unbuttoned her soiled blouse and peeled it off the warmth of the room kept her from shivering. She kicked off her heels, flexing her toes and curling them over the soft carpet. The white sweater felt plush in her hands, the knit sliding over her arms and pooling around her middle when she pulled it over her head. There was a warm woodsy smell to it, like it had been worn recently by someone with a nice smelling cologne or a strong body wash.

Louis had left her six pairs of thick fuzzy socks, all in bright colors and whimsical patterns.

She pulled on a pair with lime green and pink zig zags and pulled up Veronica’s contact on her phone.


	4. Christmas At The Orphanage

Harry felt an embarrassing sort of vulnerability as she stepped down the stairs that morning in her borrowed clothes. She straightened the big leather belt at her waist and folded her arms over her chest, the sleeves of the white sweater pulled down over her palms. She padded lightly towards the sounds in the kitchen in lilac socks with turquoise polka dots and found Liam standing over the stove with a spatula and Louis sitting at the table with a plate of half-eaten food.

“There she is!” Louis said with a wry grin, holding up her mug as if in toast. “Looking much more like a human being this morning, Harold.”

“Good morning,” Harry said uneasily, taking a seat when Liam told her to. In no time there was a steaming plate piled with eggs and toast and sausage set in front of her. “Is there coffee?”

Louis made a face.

“There’s  _ tea _ ,” she said, taking a big gulp of hers.

“I can get a pot brewing,” Liam told her over Louis’ head.

“Thank you,” Harry told her gratefully. It had been hard to sleep with the heavy wind rattling the windows and whistling through the trees outside.

Louis shoveled the rest of her eggs into her mouth and placed her toast between her teeth, gathering up her plate and mug and carrying them to the sink.

“I’ve got to go get the tree ready,” she told Liam when her hand was free to hold the toast. “I told them I’d be there before ten and I’ll have to drive slow.”

“Where are you going?” Harry asked from the table.

“Louis always brings a tree to the orphanage before Christmas,” Liam explained. “I usually go too but I’ve still got more wreaths to finish.”

“I could help,” Harry said, making them both look back at her in surprise. She busied herself by tearing off some of the crust on her toast while she spoke. “Louis said I was her assistant yesterday, so. If you need help with the tree. I could help.”

“No, Harriet, that’s alright,” Liam told her, glancing at Louis. “You’re our guest. You don’t need to help with the - ”

“No, she’s right,” Louis interrupted, her lips twitching and her gaze still on Harry. “Harold’s my assistant. People might think she was slacking off if she didn’t come with me.”

Liam frowned, looking between them.

“Alright,” she said slowly, shrugging and turning back to her pan of eggs.

“Meet me out front when you’re finished, yeah?” Louis said, glancing down at her socked feet. “And no heels.”

Two of the boots Louis had given her were too small but the third pair was just a tad too big. With the addition of her thick socks and the laces pulled tight they fit alright, still feeling lightyears better than her pumps when she stepped out into the snow and her toes stayed safe and warm. Louis had tied down a massive tree in the back of her truck and was standing against it with her arms crossed, just watching Harry as she came closer. Harry brought up her hand and tucked a loose curl behind her ear self consciously. Without all of her gels and mousses her hair was wild with flyaways and her bun was messier than she’d ever allow at home.

Louis coughed, clearing her throat and walking around to the driver’s side and climbing up into the truck. Harry followed on the other side, watching as Louis fiddled with the dials on the dashboard until old grainy Christmas music filled the cab. Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips but Louis just grinned, singing along loudly as she drove them carefully down the icy road.

The orphanage was a big gray victorian house, a sign in front labeling it as  _ Saint Nicholas' Home For Ill Children _ . When they carried in the tree, Louis at the base and Harry huffing under the weight of just the tree’s top, they were met with a swarm of excited children.

“Miss Louis!” they called, dancing around her. “You brought us a tree!”

“Of course I did,” Louis grinned, setting the tree upright and leaning it against the wall. “Have I let you all go without a tree yet?”

“No,” they answered in a chorus.

“Louis!” A spry elderly woman wearing a nun’s habit came bustling down the stairs into the front room with a cheerful smile on her face. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Sister Noelle,” Louis said, giving her a quick hug. “Shall we set up in the same place as always?”

“Please,” Sister Noelle said, gesturing to an open corner. “I hope we cleared enough space, this tree must be even bigger than the one you brought last year!”

“I always save the best tree for you all,” Louis beamed, taking hold of the tree again. She didn’t ask for Harry’s help and didn’t seem to need it so Harry trailed behind her with all of the children. “Sister Noelle, this is my assistant, Harold. Harold, Sister Noelle.”

“Harriet,” Harry said easily, reaching out to shake the nun’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harriet,” Sister Noelle smiled.

“And you as well.”

Louis fit the tree into the plastic stand with ease, directing one of the older kids to help her tighten the screws to keep it up straight. All of the children were dressed in worn out knickerbockers or faded pinafores, some of them propping themselves up with old wooden crutches like something from a Charles Dickens novel.

“Louis, me and Diana got out the boxes of decorations all by ourselves,” one little girl with braided hair told her proudly.

“Wow, the two of you must be strong!” Louis grinned, tugging one of her braids and making the girl blush. “Why don’t you open them up and we can get this tree dressed?”

Harry watched as Louis helped the kids wrap the tree in lights and tinsel, pulling a step ladder up to reach the branches above her head.

“Here,” came a voice to Harry’s right. There was a boy standing at the height of her shoulder with wispy black hair, holding out a shiny red ornament. Harry cautiously took the ornament from him, glancing at Louis who was busy wrapping some of the children up with a length of garland. “You can put it on the tree,” the boy told her, pointing to one of the branches. “That’s a good spot.”

“Alright,” Harry said, carefully hanging the ornament and leaving the branch bowing slightly under the weight.

The boy beamed, running back to the box to get more decorations.

Harry felt a tug on the hem of her coat and looked down to see a girl of four or five with an ornament shaped like a rocking horse in her hand.

“Miss Harold?” she asked with her small voice. “I can’t reach.”

“Oh no,” Harry said, crouching down to the girl’s height. “Do you need help?”

“Yes, please,” the girl nodded, holding out her arms to be lifted. Harry fit her hands under the girl’s arms and held her up towards the tree, lifting her high so she could place her horse on a tall branch.

“That’s perfect!” Harry smiled, setting the girl back on the ground.

“Thank you, Miss Harold.”

“Miss Harold can you put my ornament next to Clara’s?” asked a little boy.

“Sure,” Harry said. “Would you like me to lift you up too?”

He thought for a moment, rocking on his feet, before nodding.

Harry picked him up just as she had Clara and he hung his glass teddy bear beside her rocking horse. When she sat him down there was a wide smile across his face.

“Sister Noelle,” Harry heard a worried little voice say. “Some of these ornaments don’t have anything to hang with.”

“Oh dear,” Sister Noelle frowned, peering into the box. “Some of the wires must have broken!”

“Do you have any extra wire lying around?” Louis asked, coming over to inspect the situation. “I could restring them for you.”

“I’m afraid we couldn’t afford any Christmas ornament wire this year,” Sister Noelle told her sadly. She turned to the waiting children. “We’ll just have to make do with what we have. Maybe some of you could share ornaments.”

“Wait a second,” Harry said, reaching into the pocket of her coat. “I usually keep a few- Here!” She pulled out a handful of shiny silver paper clips. “Would these work?”

“Those are perfect!” Louis exclaimed, taking one of the clips and looping the wire through the top of an ornament. She handed it to one of the children who hung it securely on the tree. “How did you have these?” she asked Harry, taking the rest from her.

“They’re for business,” Harry explained, joining her on the floor beside the box. “I do a lot of paperwork.”

“Here,” Louis said, setting the paperclips on the floor between them and handing Harry a porcelain figure of Santa Claus with an empty loop on his hat. Harry shed her coat and scarf and together they worked through the broken ornaments, replacing their wires and handing them off to the line of children. They had just enough paper clips to fix all of the ornaments and by the time they’d finished Clara had come back and climbed in Harry’s lap and Diana and Marley were standing behind Louis, trying their best to braid her short hair.

“What have we got here?”

Harry looked up to see another nun standing with her hands on her hips and a wry smile twisting her full lips.

“Jay!” Louis exclaimed, her face lighting up more than Harry had ever seen it. “I was wondering where you were!”

“Well, nobody saw fit to tell me there was a tree party going on,” the woman grinned. Her gaze shifted to Harry and her smile sharpened. “And who is this? I can’t remember the last time Louis brought a  _ girl _ here.”

“Jay,” Louis said, her eyes narrowing. “This is Harold - ”

“Harriet.”

“ - she’s staying at the farm until the storm passes over.”

“Really now?” Jay asked, looking between them. “I heard it might not pass until after Christmas, you know.”

“Yep,” Louis nodded. “We’ve been keeping an eye on the weather reports. Lots of snow. Lots of wind. All that.”

“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been snowed in, Harriet,” Jay told her kindly. “I trust that Liam and Louis have been accommodating?”

She looked pointedly at Louis who rolled her eyes.

“They’ve been very generous,” Harry said, smiling shyly. She wasn’t usually a shy person but the nun’s presence was very strong, like some sort of deity. Harry felt rather small in front of her. “Especially Louis.”

Louis’ head whipped towards Harry, a small frown on her face, and Harry looked down at Clara in her lap.

“Yes,” Jay smiled, “our Louis has quite the generous spirit. She hasn’t let us go without a tree since she took over the farm. Have you been able to contact your family, Harriet? I’m sure they’re missing you so close to the holidays.”

Harry opened her mouth to speak but Louis cut her off.

“Harold hates Christmas,” she said with a face that conveyed exactly how she felt about that fact.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” Harry told her with a pout. “I told you, I’m just busy. Not everybody lives in a town that revolves around Christmas. Some of us have office jobs. It’s not my fault you’re Kris Kringle in the flesh.”

“ _ Kris Kringle? _ ” Louis snorted. “You’re much more of the 34th Street type than I am, Scrooge.”

“Don’t you like Christmas, Miss Harriet?” Diana asked, her hands still buried in Louis’ hair. The girls had given up trying to force it into a braid and had started pushing it up into a rather bird-like mohawk.

“Of course I do,” Harry told them, ignoring Louis’ scoff. “Miss Louis is just being a baby.”

“Miss Harold?” Clara asked, craning her neck and pushing the mousey brown curls off her forehead to look at Harry. “Are you and Miss Louis married?”

“What?” Harry balked, glancing over to Louis whose eyes had gone wide. “Um, no. No, we’re not.”

“Why not?” Clara asked.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed.

“Um,” she said.

Jay was still standing over them all with a wildly amused look on her face.

“Why don’t I put some music on?” she asked, saving Harry from responding. “We’ve still got some garlands to hang and a nativity to dust off.”

Jay ushered the three little girls over to a small stereo to pick out a CD of Christmas music, leaving Harry and Louis alone.

“So, um,” Harry started.

“I’m just going to, uh,” Louis pointed vaguely towards the step ladder.

“Right, yeah,” Harry nodded.

Louis went off to hang the garland around the house and Harry wandered over to Sister Noelle who was unpacking little figures wrapped in old newspaper.

“Would you like to help with the nativity?” she asked, beckoning Harry closer.

“Sure,” Harry nodded, joining her at the little table. She picked up one of the figures and peeled back the paper to reveal a hand-painted wise man carved from wood. “These are beautiful,” Harry commented, setting him down with the other wise man Sister Noelle had unwrapped.

“Aren’t they?” the nun smiled. “We’ve had them here for as long as I can remember. It’s nice to bring them out each year.”

Harry hummed in agreement, unwrapping a little wooden lamb.

“I see you met Sister Johanna,” the nun said, nodding towards Jay who was steadying the ladder for Louis.

“Yes,” Harry smiled. “She seems very nice. Everybody here does. The children are all lovely.”

“They are,” Sister Noelle agreed fondly. “It’s hard to watch them all go through so much, especially so young.” When Harry cocked her head inquisitively she continued, “They’re all orphans, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, but most of them are ill. For some it’s polio, others scarlet fever. We’ve even got one with chicken pox. They can’t go anywhere else, they’re too ill. This place is all they’ve got.”

“Wow,” Harry said, looking sadly at the children, all smiling cheerfully despite the limps in their steps and their stuffy noses. “Is there any way to help?”

“Not unless you know any foreign queens who’d like to donate the money to cure them all,” Sister Noelle chuckled. “Come to think of it we could use a nice mansion as well.”

“Really,” Harry said, smiling. “I’d like to help.”

“You’ve helped plenty today, dear,” the nun told her. “They love having visitors. I’m sure we’ll be hearing for weeks about you and Louis coming to visit.”

“Then we’ll come back,” Harry promised. “I’ll come and see them all again before I leave town.”

“They would love that,” Sister Noelle smiled.

“Harold?” Louis called when Harry was just setting the tiny wooden baby in his little manger. “Are you ready to head back now? The sun will be setting soon and we shouldn’t be on the road after dark.”

“Of course,” Harry said, straightening up. “Let me just grab my coat.”

She gathered up her things and met Louis at the door frame. The children all gathered around to say their goodbyes. 

“We’ll see you all again soon,” Harry told them when Clara clung to the hem of her coat. “Louis and I are going to bake cookies to bring to you.”

“We are?” Louis asked out of the side of her mouth while the children cheered.

“We are,” Harry grinned. “Lots and lots of cookies.”

“Miss Louis,” Diana called, both her and Marley giggling into their hands. “Did you see where you and Miss Harriet are standing?”

They pointed above their heads and Harry and Louis looked up to see an old sprig of mistletoe hung crookedly over the door.

“Diana, did you put that there?” Louis asked, waggling her finger.

“No, Marley did!” Diana laughed.

“It was her idea!” Marley insisted, giggling.

“Now you have to kiss!” Diana told them.

“No we don’t,” Louis told them, sticking out her tongue and effectively negating any ounce of authority she may have had.

“Yes you do,” someone argued, and suddenly there were two dozen children chanting  _ Kiss! _ at them.

“Sorry,” Louis told them with a wave of her hand. “We really must be going! Another day maybe!”

She reached blindly for the doorknob as the children boo’ed. Harry rolled her eyes, slipping one hand around the back of Louis’ head and using the other to pinch her chin, holding her steady for a moment and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. The kids cheered and Harry dipped down into a quick curtsy, blowing a few air kisses to the crowd before grabbing Louis’ hand and pulling her onto the porch and shutting the door behind them. Louis seemed to be in a sort of daze so Harry just pulled her along to the truck, depositing her at the driver’s side and climbing into the cab.


	5. The Sweetest Christmas

Louis Tomlinson loved Christmas. It was a fact that anyone who met her knew. She often joked that there was peppermint and nutmeg in her blood and that the rest of the year was always just a long wait until December. She was the sort of person who started listening to Christmas music in October and who had a collection of genuine vintage Christmas sweaters. She was fueled by Christmas cheer, which made it all the more strange that she was so hung up on the most Scrooge-like woman she’d ever met.

Louis took another sip of her tea, looking out the window at the fairy lights reflecting in the snow outside. It was much too late for her to be awake but something about knowing that Harry was sleeping just down the hall left her tossing and turning in her bed, especially after spending more time with her.

That day Louis had called her into the kitchen, baking supplies spread across the counter and an old faded cookbook open to a section on Christmas cookies.

“What’s all this?” Harry had said, squinting funnily at the garishly festive apron tied around Louis’ waist.

“Christmas cookies, Harold,” Louis told her, making her fumble by tossing a second apron towards her. “You decided we were making them, so here we are.”

Harry pulled the apron over her head and looked distastefully at the big Santa Claus applique on the chest.

“This is hideous,” she said as she tied the strings behind her back.

“Thank you,” Louis grinned, sliding a pile of measuring cups across the counter. “I made it myself!”

Louis fiddled with the little plastic radio next to the toaster until a slightly grainy version of  _ Little Saint Nick _ was filtering through. Harry rolled her eyes but pulled the raggedy sack of flour towards herself and started measuring three cups into the big red mixing bowl.

“You don’t even know which recipe we’re using yet,” Louis said, circling around her.

“Yes I do,” Harry argued, reaching for the sugar. “We’re making gingerbread cookies. The recipe’s right there.”

“I was gonna make sugar cookies,” Louis frowned, trying to pull the recipe book away.

“We’re making gingerbread,” Harry told her matter-of-factly, snatching the book back. “They’re the classic Christmas cookie. You’ve got ground ginger, right?”

“I think so,” Louis grumbled, crossing to the cabinet with their spice rack and pulling out a little glass jar of ginger begrudgingly. “Here.”

“Perfect,” Harry said, taking it with a smile. Louis hadn’t seen her smile much and it always surprised her a bit when she did. She almost looked like a normal human woman when she did, instead of a Christmas-hating demon sent to ruin Louis’ life with her shiny hair and sparkly eyes.

They made their way through mixing the dough easily, orbiting around each other until they had a nice sheet of gingerbread rolled across the counter. Louis had a big ziplock bag filled with rust-flecked tin cookie cutters shaped like little people and trees and candy canes. They each grabbed a few and got to work pressing the shapes and lining them up on a baking sheet. Harry’s arm was pressed against Louis’ and their elbows kept knocking together.

Louis thought she was going crazy at first when she heard it but when she tilted her head closer to Harry’s there was an unmistakable little hum.

“Really, Harold?” she asked, grinning. “Mariah Carey? She’s the one who can break your Grinch-y ways?”

“Shut up,” Harry said, blushing and looking intently down at the cookies.

“It  _ is  _ a Christmas classic,” Louis reasoned with a laugh. “I supposed not even you could be immune.”

“I don’t like Christmas music,” Harry tried to declare.

“Are you sure?” Louis asked with a smirk. “I could have sworn I saw your hips moving to  _ Jingle Bell Rock _ earlier.” She stepped closer, caging Harry with her front against the counter, and began to sing along to the song. “ _ I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know!” _ she crooned, setting her hands on Harry’s hips and trying to move her with the music, pressing closer when she tried to worm away, laughing. “ _ Make my wish come true! Baby, all I want for Christmas is yoooouuuuu! _ ”

Her voice cracked on the high note and they both laughed, Louis’ chin resting on Harry’s shoulder, before suddenly she realized the position she’d gotten into. Her hips were pressed against Harry’s, her chest pressed to Harry’s back and her lips just inches from Harry’s neck. Her fingers twitched reflexively where they were gripping the soft swell of Harry’s hips and she immediately released them, jumping back.

She coughed, putting a few more feet of space between them.

“We should get these in the oven,” she said, turning back to the cookies. “They’ll need time to cool before we can deliver them.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, clearing her throat and scratching her neck - right where Louis had just been.

Louis opened the over and bent down to slide the cookie sheet in. When she straightened up she saw Harry’s eyes dart away, her face flushing.

When they got to the orphanage the kids flocked to Harry, more excited to see her than they were to eat the cookies. As soon as she sat down Clara was crawling into her lap, looking up at her like she’d hung the moon. Louis had been surprised to see Clara latch onto Harry so fast because the little girl had always been incredibly shy. It had taken months for her to warm up to Louis but something had made her gravitate towards Harry right away.

Louis didn’t even want to imagine what her face must have looked like watching Harry pass out cookies to all the children because when she’d looked away she saw Jay giving her a horribly knowing look.

“Fuck off,” Louis had muttered, quietly enough not to be heard by any of the children.

“Louis!” Jay chastised with a smile. “Cursing at a nun? I thought you were raised better.”

“I was raised by the best,” Louis grinned.

“Hey Lou?” Harry called from where a whole gaggle of children where climbing on her and hanging off her arms. “Could you make sure Freya and Mary each got cookies?”

“Sure thing,” Louis had nodded dutifully and wove through the crowd towards the two girls in the corner, ignoring Jay’s eyes on her back.

She was fucked, really.

Louis Tomlinson did not let herself become infatuated with Grinch women. She did not lie awake at night thinking about their pretty cheeks and delicate little hands and big forest-y eyes and wondering what it would be like to hold them in her arms, or to be held herself.

Except that that’s exactly what she was doing.

A floorboard creaked on the stairs and Louis turned from her spot on the window seat to find Harry frowning down at her feet which were sabotaging her attempts at stealth.

“Shh!” she whispered softly, as if it might make her feet behave.

Louis grinned - terribly,  _ horribly _ endeared.

“Harold.”

Harry jumped, clutching the banister.

“Louis?” she said, squinting through the shadows.

“What are you doing up so late?”

“I was just looking for an extra blanket,” Harry explained, her posture relaxing. “I think the stove went off in my room. I woke up freezing.”

“I’ve got a few in my room,” Louis told her, already standing up. “Come on, I’ll grab one for you.”

She brought her tea along with her and scampered up the stairs, squeezing past Harry and leading the way to her own room. She flicked the switch by the door and blinked a few times to clear her vision in the sudden light.

“Hold this,” she said, handing her mug to Harry and crossing to the large wooden trunk at the foot of her bed. She pulled open the heavy lid and propped it up against the bed frame, kneeling down to rummage through the mass of wool blankets and afghans and quilts. She knew there was a thick down comforter somewhere towards the bottom of the pile. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Harry moving around the room, gravitating towards the dresser topped with old photos and knicknacks. When Louis found the right blanket she had to pull with all her strength to yank it free from the others and she stumbled back under the weight of it when it was out.

“That’s perfect,” Harry said, setting down the photo of teenaged Louis and Liam that she’d been inspecting and smiling. She had started doing that - touching their things. At first she’d seemed hesitant to touch anything in the house (either from fear of imposing or fear of germs, although Louis had a feeling it was closer to the latter) but suddenly she’d begun to read their books and move their pillows around and get her own dishes out of the cupboards. Louis wanted to hate it, to frown at each item that Harry had likely infected with her Scrooge-ness, but instead it made her heart ache like it wanted to be held in Harry’s long pale fingers too.

Harry took a sip of Louis’ tea, as if it was something she did all the time.

“Hey!” Louis grumbled, grabbing the mug back from her and shoving the comforter into Harry’s arms. “If you wanted tea you could have made your own.”

“I don’t want tea,” Harry smiled, bundling the blanket against her chest. Her hair was down, at least as down as Louis had ever seen it. Instead of the usual schoolmarm bun it was plaited in a loose braid, the end falling somewhere between her shoulder blades. Louis wanted to keep her there in her bedroom forever.

“Let me take a look at your heater,” Louis said, walking back towards Harry’s room. She let Harry step in first, taking a quick sip of her tea and trying to ignore the thought that Harry’s mouth had just touched the same sliver of ceramic as her own. Harry settled cross-legged on her bed with the comforter draped around her shoulders while Louis poked and prodded at the stove, tightening screws and measuring water pressure.

“You didn’t say why you were up so late,” Harry said, watching her from the bed.

“Oh,” Louis said. She picked up a wrench. “I was looking at the lights.”

“The lights?”

“Outside,” Louis added. “I like looking at Christmas lights at night. It’s one of my favorite parts of the season.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, still turned towards the stove. “When I was a kid I always thought the lights were for me. My birthday’s Christmas Eve. I thought everyone was celebrating my birthday.”

“That’s sweet,” Harry said and Louis could hear the smile in her voice. “Did your parents let you believe?”

Louis finished tightening the bolt and set the wrench down.

“No,” she said, clearing her throat. “No, I, uh, never knew my parents.”

“Oh.”

“I was raised at the orphanage.”

When she glanced back she was expecting a sad sympathetic face but Harry was just cocking her head curiously.

“So, Jay?” she asked.

“She was like a mom to me,” Louis nodded.

“I was wondering,” Harry said. “You two seem close. I like Jay. She’s nice.”

“She is,” Louis agreed.

“Did Liam grow up there too?”

“No,” Louis smiled, wrinkling her nose. “We met in school.”

She turned back to the stove, pressing a button and watching it heat up. Harry slid off of the bed to kneel next to her, putting her hands up to the stove to warm them. The change in temperature had turned her knuckles a bright rosy pink and Louis wanted desperately to press a kiss to each one.

“Oh,” Harry said softly. Louis glanced up to see Harry’s eyes pointed above them to the ceiling. Louis tilted her head back to see the bundle of mistletoe strung directly over their heads.

It would be so easy to kiss Harry, to cradle her face in her hands and crush their lips together. To cut out the middleman tea cup and have Harry’s mouth directly against hers, to taste her and breathe her in and warm her up without the blanket or the stove or the sweater. To ruin her perfect hair and cut through her cheerless facade.

“It’s getting late,” Louis said, stumbling to her feet. “I should - ”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, walking back to her bed. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded back, backing towards the door. “Goodnight, Harold.”

“Goodnight, Lewis.”

Louis all but ran back to her own room.


	6. Happy Howl-idays!

Harry couldn’t be blamed for her attraction to Louis. It was only natural, really. She’d always had a weakness for a handy sort of woman and had indulged in the occasional fantasy about being bed by a rugged outdoorswoman. But Louis wasn’t rugged, really. She had an almost dainty look to her, but there was a strength and a suredness that radiated from her that made Harry’s knees weak. She’d tossed and turned all night after Louis left her room and woke up sweating, surrounded by the heat of Louis’ blanket and the stove she’d repaired herself.

Harry laid on her back staring up at the ceiling, debating whether or not to do something about the ache between her legs.

She heard a light crash through the floor followed by some muffled barking and sighed, throwing the heavy pile of blankets to the foot of the bed and rolling up off of the mattress.

When Harry walked down the stairs after getting dressed she felt as if she was stepping into Santa’s workshop. There was Christmas music filling the house and boxes spilling over with garlands and lights and red and green felt. There was a slightly scrawny looking tree by the window in the sitting room that hadn’t been there before and a light trail of pine needles leading to the back door.

“You’re up!” Louis said, lugging a plastic storage bin filled with layers of glass ornaments in every color. Clifford was quick on her heels, a red sweater wrapped around his big lanky frame. Harry watched as she set the bin down with the others and straightened back up. “I hope you didn’t have any plans today. This tree needs to be decorated and I need my assistant to help.”

“I’d have thought you’d be the type to have a tree up a decorated by mid-November,” Harry said, peering into a box of tinsel and fake snow.

“Even Liam has her breaking point,” Louis joked. She pulled out a bundle of fairy lights and started looking for the end. “But I always wait until business starts dying down. Just about everybody in town has their tree now, so we should be good to go. I always wait and let everybody else have their pick of the nicer trees. We’re fine with whatever’s left.”

“That’s nice of you,” Harry said, taking the bundle of lights when Louis offered it and holding it while she unwound it. “I’d have thought you’d want the perfect tree, for the perfect Christmas.”

“But I get to see all of them every day,” Louis grinned. “Everybody else has to choose one and live with it so it’s got to be perfect. I’ve got all the best trees all in one place. It’d be selfish to keep them all to myself. By the time Christmas rolls around I’ve gotten to meet so many beautiful trees, it doesn’t matter which one ends up in our house.”

Louis plugged the lights into an outlet in the corner and they sprang to life in Harry’s hands.

“It’s weird how you talk about trees,” Harry said, wrinkling her nose.

“I love them!” Louis told her, starting to tuck some lights between the lower branches of the tree while Harry held the coiled end.

“Too much,” Harry laughed. “I’m afraid to ask what you do when you’re alone with them all.”

“Harold!” Louis said, looking scandalized. “These trees are my babies! I raised them all myself! I’d never do anything unwholesome to them!”

She flicked the lights so they thwacked Harry’s hip, laughing.

“Do you name all your tree babies?” Harry asked, grinning.

Louis narrowed her eyes and went back to lighting the tree.

“You do!” Harry exclaimed. “What’s this one’s name?”

“I don’t name them all,” Louis grumbled. “Just my favorites.”

Harry tapped her feet gleefully and Louis snorted.

“Her name’s Claudette.”

“Oh!” Harry cooed, reaching out and taking a longer branch towards the middle of the tree between her thumb and middle finger. She dipped her head and undulated the branch as if shaking the tree’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Claudette. My name is Harriet, although your mother here seems to think it’s Harold.”

“You just seem like more of a Harold,” Louis told her, making her way further up the tree. Without discussing it she and Harry had begun to pass the bundle of lights back and forth to wind it around the tree.

“You seem like more of a Knobhead but I haven’t been calling you that,” Harry said and Louis choked indignantly. “Well, not to your face at least.”

“I resent that, thank you very much,” Louis said, handling the lights back to Harry. “Do you want me to call you Harriet though?”

“It’s my name,” Harry told her, fiddling with the lights and tucking them further back into the branches. “But,” she said softly. “I don’t really mind Harold.”

“Maybe I’ll find a compromise,” Louis told her, taking the lights back when Harry held them out.

They continued on like that until the whole tree was covered, turning the patchy little tree into a glowing slice of magic in the living room. By the time they’d finished the lights and the sparkling garland the music had stopped so Louis walked over to the record player on the shelf and resleeved the Johnny Mathis record that had been playing. She blocked the new record she selected with her back, setting down the needle and spinning around as the opening orchestration began.

_ “You know Dasher, Dancer, and Prancer and Vixen. Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. But do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?” _

She swayed her hips, shimmying towards the tree as the orchestration swelled and Harry frowned at the record player.

“What is this,” Harry said, craning her neck to see the cardboard sleeve with the little clay creatures. “Do you seriously have  _ Rudolf _ on vinyl?”

“It’s a classic,” Louis told her, picking up a round glass ornament. “It’s Burl Ives. Haven’t you seen it?”

“Of course I’ve seen it,” Harry scoffed. “Everyone’s seen it.”

“So you know how great the soundtrack is,” Louis grinned, handing her a little porcelain cherub on a ribbon. She kept dancing around while she selected her next ornament, singing along to the song. “ _ Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best time of the year! I don’t know if there’ll be snow, but have a cup of cheer!” _

Harry rolled her eyes, finding a good branch to loop her cherub on.

Slowly the tree filled up, the branches drooping under the weight of all the little bobbles and nick-knacks. Harry stood on her tip-toes to hang a little nutcracker towards the top of the tree, swaying a bit to the music.

“.. _ .just by the pleasure it gives here on Earth _ ,” she sang under her breath, dropping down flat on her feet and stepping back to look at the tree. “ _ Silver and gold, silver and gold. Means so much more when I see - ” _

“Hark!” Louis grinned, making Harry jump. “A Harold angel sings!”

“I wasn’t singing,” Harry denied although she knew it was a waste of time. “I told you, I don’t like Christmas music.”

“You’re an awful liar, you know,” Louis told her. “It’s okay if you like Christmas music. Lots of people do. There’s whole radio stations for it. Nearly every major singer has at least one Christmas album. It’s a whole thing.”

“My mum always liked this song,” Harry said, reaching out to straighten a gingerbread man on the tree. “She always played it when I was growing up.”

“And you like it,” Louis said, waiting for Harry to nod her head minutely. “See, that wasn’t so hard was it? You’re Harriet Styles and you fucking  _ love _ Christmas music.”

Harry glared at her and opened her mouth to argue but Louis cut her off.

“You love  _ some _ Christmas music,” she amended. “Mainly Burl Ives and Mariah Carey.”

“Fine,” Harry conceded.

“Hah!” Louis exclaimed gleefully. “I win! Now come pass me the nails so I can put the stockings up.”

Harry followed her to the fireplace but when Louis opened her toolkit there was only one nail left in the little box.

“I’ve got more out in the shop,” Louis sighed, looking wistfully at the storm outside.

“I’ll get them,” Harry offered, moving towards the door before Louis could stop her. “You can start putting your stocking up while I’m gone. I know you’ve been waiting all year for it.”

Harry grabbed Louis’ coat beside the door and shrugged into it, sending Louis a wry grin. Louis was still kneeling frozen beside her toolbox, watching with a soft sort of look on her face. Harry pulled the hood up over her head and stepped out into the snow, a wave of cold crashing over her as she closed the door behind her.

Liam must have been helping a last minute tree-buyer out in the forest because the front of the shop was rolled up and the lights were all on but she was nowhere to be seen. Harry crunched through the thick blanket of snow on the ground, burying her hands in Louis’ pockets to keep them from freezing on the short walk. Her right hand found a whole stash of miniature candy canes nestled in with about a thousand empty cellophane wrappers and Harry smiled. She was sure Louis filled her pockets with candy with the intention of giving it out to the children who came to the farm but was too tempted by the festive treats to abstain.

When she got inside the shop she emptied out the right pocket and laid out the candies and the wrappers on the counter. She picked through them all and gathered up the wrappers, crumpling them up in one hand and looking around for a trash can. Finally she found one inside a cabinet beneath the counter and she dropped the wrappers in. Just as she was scooping the candies back into Louis’ pocket she heard a howl in the distance.

Harry looked out through the front of the shop but she couldn’t see much through the snow falling all around. She swallowed nervously and glanced around for the nails. There was a pile of tools on a shelf behind the counter, boxes of zip-ties and twine and wire cutters all lined up. She rooted through them, searching for a box of nails.

There was another howl, louder than the last, and Harry’s heart began to beat faster.

As soon as she saw the nails she grabbed them, stuffing the box in her left pocket while she turned back towards the door. She shuffled outside and froze, her breath hitching in her throat.

Standing before her was a small pack of wolves, all of their hackles raised and their noses pointed towards her. Harry gasped and stepped back, trying desperately to remember anything she’d ever been told about wild animal encounters.

“N-nice,” she stuttered, cautiously holding out one trembling hand. “Nice wolves?”

The wolf in the middle - the biggest one - snarled and Harry yanked her hand back against her chest, shaking. The wolf took a step closer to her and Harry whimpered. They were all licking their chops, lowering into positions to pounce, and Harry squeezed her eyes shut. She clenched her fists, bracing for impact.

“Hey!” came a hoarse shout along with a clatter.

Harry’s eyes flew open, her head turning along with all of the wolves’ to see Louis lumbering towards them. She was brandishing an ax above her head and glaring at the wolves.

“Get out of here! Out!” she shouted, stomping her feet as she came closer and waving the ax threateningly. “Out!”

The wolves stepped back, cocking their heads and narrowing their eyes at her.

“Fuck off!” Louis told them, yelling until they all slinked away. She threw her ax on the ground, grumbling, “Stupid fucking wolves.”

She stepped closer to Harry just in time to catch her when she collapsed, her whole body going limp as her eyelids fluttered shut.

Harry woke up slowly and groggily, surrounded by a hazy sort of warmth. Louis had switched the record and Nat King Cole was playing softly, a fire crackling in the fireplace. When Harry opened her eyes she saw Louis poking at the fire and shifting the logs around. She pushed herself up against the arm of the couch, her muscles protesting the movement, and Louis whipped around with wide eyes.

“You’re awake,” she breathed, voice full of relief. She rushed forward and fell to her knees at Harry’s feet, leaning up into her space and darting her eyes over her face. “I was about to call Liam. You weren’t out for very long but I was getting worried. I’ve never seen someone faint before. I thought that just happened in movies.”

“I’ve never fainted before,” Harry told her, looking down at the blanket Louis had wrapped her up in.

“Are you alright?” Louis asked. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Sort of tired still.”

“It’s the stress,” Louis explained. “It wears your body out. You should rest for a while, and keep warm. You must have been terrified, out there all alone with the wolves. I swear they’re never that much of a nuisance. Me and Liam, we’ve got a sort of truce with them. We leave them alone and they leave us alone. They never get that close, usually.”

“Well thank you,” Harry said, sliding down onto the floor beside Louis. The blanket pooled around her and she stretched her feet out towards the fire. Louis had taken off her boots for her and set them beside the hearth to dry. “You saved me.”

Clifford pulled himself up from where he’d been dozing on his dog bed in the corner and clumsily snuck into Harry’s unoccupied space on the couch.

“Get down, you big oaf,” Louis told him, trying to shove him away.

“Let him stay,” Harry smiled, reaching up to pet his neck. “He’s fine there.”

“Well now we’ve got both of them,” Louis groaned, watching Pasta pad happily into the room and settle down with his head on Harry’s lap. Harry grinned, petting down his flank and rubbing his ears.

“He’s keeping me warm,” she told Louis, reaching down to scratch his belly. “He’s a good boy.”

“Debatable,” Louis mumbled.

“He’s a sweetheart,” Harry smiled. “He’s just a big puppy. How old is he?”

“Two years this Christmas,” Louis told her, bending her knees up against her chest.

“He’s a Christmas baby, just like you!”

“Yeah,” Louis said, a small smile on her face as she looked down at the dog who was panting happily and beating his tail against the leg of the couch. “He’s Liam’s really. Angel got him for her.”

“Angel?” Harry asked, remembering hearing the name mentioned before.

“Liam’s ex,” Louis explained. “She got him as a Christmas present.”

“That’s romantic,” Harry said, watching the white fur scatter around as she pet him.

“It was,” Louis snorted, “until she broke Liam’s heart the next year.”

“No,” Harry gasped, frowning.

“Christmas morning,” Louis nodded. “She didn’t even say goodbye. Just left a note.”

“That’s horrible!”

“It was,” Louis agreed. “She had this bright pink hair, always perfectly dyed. Liam kept finding pink hairs around the house for months and getting all emotional when she saw them. It was the worst I’ve ever seen her. They’d been fighting for months but it still came as a shock to her. She’d been planning to propose on Valentine’s Day.”

“But she’s still so chipper about the season,” Harry mused. “Don’t you think the holidays would be bringing up all those memories?”

“Liam’s tough,” Louis shrugged. “It’s been a while now, she’s realized that they just weren’t meant to be. Why, is that what happened to you?”

Harry bit her lip, pulling on some of the longer hairs on Pasta’s back.

“Is it?” Louis asked, her voice taking on a calculating tone. “Did you get your heart broken on Christmas?”

“No,” Harry said, furrowing her brows. “I mean, kind of. Not just that.”

“Elaborate,” Louis told her.

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “I just feel like I’m cursed maybe. Like Christmas hates me or something. Bad things always happen on Christmas. When I was twelve my cat got run over by a Christmas tree truck and when I was thirteen my parents told my sister and I they were getting a divorce on Christmas Eve. They just sat us down and told us we’d be having Christmas apart from then on. Then when I was fifteen I told my best friend I was in love with them - did a whole elaborate thing too, got flowers and a fancy gift that I saved up for months to buy - and they just handed me the candle they’d gotten me and said they didn’t feel the same. I can’t remember the last time I had a good Christmas. I just sort of stopped doing it after a while. I always made sure I had an assignment for school or a big case at the office to be busy with so I could just avoid it all.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, pressing her shoulder against Harry’s. “Christmas is supposed to be a happy time. Nobody should have to avoid it.”

“It’s worked out fine for me so far,” Harry said, leaning her head on Louis’ shoulder. “Until  _ somebody _ decided I was the antichrist for it.”

“The jury's still out on that one,” Louis smiled, looking at her from the corner of her eye.

When Harry glanced up she saw a bundle of mistletoe hung above their heads. She just closed her eyes and snuggled further into Louis’ side, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the two dogs and the girl at her side.


	7. An Icey Christmas

“You two up for one last tree delivery?” Liam asked, hanging off the door frame.

Louis didn’t stop her fingers dancing over the keys of the piano, just turned her head toward Liam with pursed lips. Harry closed the book she’d borrowed from one of the shelves on the wall - a gay romance about a lawyer and a bookstore owner who fall in love despite their differences - and sat up.

Harry had ridden with Liam into town that morning for supplies and she’d been curled up in the sitting room reading ever since, sitting across from the glowing tree with a warm fire in the fireplace and Pasta’s head on her knee. When Louis came in and sat at the little upright piano against the wall and started playing Harry had complained about her only knowing Christmas music but before long she settled into it. The way Louis played there was more warmth coming from the piano than from the fire, the music swirling around Harry like a gentle embrace. On some songs Louis would hum or sing softly along, her voice raspy in a way that felt like she was whispering in Harry’s ear as she sang.

Harry had only turned four pages since Louis joined her.

“I thought we were done with all the deliveries,” Louis said, still playing perfectly as if she’d placed her hands on autopilot.

“It’s a tree emergency,” Liam explained. “Some hooligans stole the tree Mrs. Mullens had up in the cafe. I told her we’d bring her a new one. I already got one ready.”

“The sun’s about to set,” Louis reminded her.

“And you have amazing night vision,” Liam countered. “Lou, I promised I’d get one to her. She’s expecting a big crowd for Christmas, even with this storm. She needs a tree.”

“Alright,” Louis sighed, bringing her song to an end. “How about you, Harold? Up for it?”

“Sure,” Harry said, moving her feet to the floor and jostling Pasta who’d been sprawled across her legs.

“You should bring some skates with you,” Liam told them. “Mrs. Mullens said she’d let you on the ice as a thank you.”

“Liam, we’re professionals,” Louis said, standing up. “We won’t have time for ice skating.”

“Aww,” Harry said, walking towards the stairs to grab her things. “I love ice skating.”

Louis watched her pad along in a pair of Louis’ socks with little frogs all over them and Liam nudged her shoulder.

“I’ll go grab our skates,” Liam told her. “Mine should fit her fine.”

Harry realized halfway through the drive to the Mullens’ skating pond that Louis had made a playlist of Mariah Carey and Burl Ives Christmas songs when she noticed she’d been humming along to every one. Louis just kept her eyes on the slippery road, her mouth bent up in a satisfied little smile.

“Thank you for bringing this, I mean it,” Mrs. Mullens told them, admiring the beautiful tree that Louis placed in the window of her cafe. The cafe and her home sat right on the edge of a small pond that froze over in the winter and she charged a small price to skate on it once it was cold enough.

“It’s no trouble, really,” Louis told her, rotating the tree just a bit so that the fullest side would have the most visibility.

“What do I owe you then?” the woman asked when she finished.

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis said, waving her off. “You’ve let me on the ice for free so many times I think I owe you a dozen trees.”

“Please, Louis,” she said, her tone scolding. “You and Liam give out so many discounts I don’t see how you make any profit at all.”

“You paid for the first one,” Louis told her. “I couldn’t charge you for a second. Plus, it’s Christmas.”

“Come here,” Mrs. Mullens said, pulling her into a hug. Harry watched as she slipped a small roll of money into Louis’ pocket, winking at Harry over her shoulder.

Harry mimed zipping her mouth shut and grinned.

“Now, did you bring your skates? I know you always loved skating, Louis.”

“We did,” Louis nodded, smiling.

“I’ve never skated on a pond before,” Harry told her. “Only ever an indoor rink.”

“Really?” Mrs. Mullens asked, looking a bit scandalized.

“Harry here’s a city girl,” Louis laughed. “She thinks artificial trees are acceptable.”

“Are you going to hold that over me forever?” Harry asked, nudging her with her shoulder.

“I’ll be honored to share my pond with you,” Mrs. Mullens said, smiling fondly at them both. “Let me make you girls some hot chocolate to keep you warm out there.”

The ice was glittering with all the light bulbs strung above it, the snowfall lightening to a gentle dusting rather than the harsh blizzard of the past few days. Louis stepped out first, gliding easily across the ice and turning to watch as Harry shuffled forward with a wide smile on her face.

“I love skating,” Harry said, her ankles wobbling and her arms waving around at her sides to keep her balance.

“Been a while since you were on the ice?” Louis asked, skating in little circles while Harry made her way across the ice in a crooked line.

“I haven’t had time to do anything like this in years,” Harry admitted, starting to build up a pace as she went. “I’m always too busy with all my business.”

“Business does tend to be busy,” Louis laughed.

She shifted her weight and threw herself into a little twirl, her skates scraping pleasantly against the ice. Harry pouted, watching her.

“I wanna do that,” she said.

“It takes practice,” Louis told her. She skated forward, picking up speed before jumping up and spinning in the air. Her landing was a bit unsteady but Harry didn’t seem to notice, her eyes going wide at the display. Louis had always been a show off and it always got worse in front of pretty girls. She kept twirling, seeing how many turns she could make, and Harry’s pout kept getting deeper.

Louis finished one turn just in time to see Harry throw herself into a twirl, barely making it halfway round before tumbling down in a heap on the ice.

“Oww,” she whined, pushing herself up on her elbows.

“Are you okay?” Louis asked, kneeling down beside her.

“Yeah,” Harry frowned. “I just wanted to spin. You made it look easy.”

“Because I’ve already fallen loads of times,” Louis told her fondly, helping her up to her feet and steadying her on the ice. “I used to come here every weekend when I was a kid. Mrs. Mullens always let the kids from the orphanage in for free.”

“That’s sweet of her,” Harry said, taking a step forward and flailing a bit. Louis reached out and caught her hands in her own, keeping her upright. “Just like you and your trees, always helping everybody.”

“I know what it’s like to need a little extra kindness around Christmas,” Louis told her, skating backwards and pulling Harry along by her hands. “Our whole town always seems to shine during the holidays. It’s been good to me, it’s nice to return the favor.”

She skated around in a circle, effectively twirling Harry as she orbited around her. Harry giggled delightedly, almost losing her footing even with Louis holding onto her.

“The nuns always loved to tell everyone I was their Christmas baby,” Louis smiled nostalgically, moving to Harry’s side but keeping one of her hands in her own. “They found me on Christmas morning under the tree in the middle of a wreath dressed in a tiny Santa suit. I was just a few hours old. They love telling the story and how they thought I must have been a doll until I started crying and they all nearly had a heart attack.”

“You must have been adorable,” Harry said, squeezing her hand. “You really were born for Christmas.”

"I like to think so," Louis smiled.

"Hey, Louis," Harry said, letting herself drift closer to Louis' side on her skates. "Yesterday, when I told you about the friend who broke my heart on Christmas. It was a girl."

"Yeah," Louis nodded, as if waiting for Harry to continue. 

"I'm a lesbian," Harry said, the word buzzing on her lips like it always did. 

"I know," Louis said easily. "So am I. So's Liam."

"What do you mean you know?" Harry said, furrowing her brow. "People never know. Everyone always assumes I'm straight."

"You're definitely not straight," Louis snorted.

"How do you know?" Harry asked. 

"I don't know, I just do," Louis shrugged. "You don't pluck your eyebrows. You didn't assume that Liam and I were married. You don't look at me how straight women look at me."

"And how do I look at you?" Harry asked, her eyes catching a quick flick of Louis' tongue over her bottom lip.

"Well to start with," Louis grinned, "you mostly look at my ass."

"I do not!" Harry huffed, breaking the link of their hands and trying to skate away.

Louis laughed and followed after her, catching her around the waist and bringing them both to the ground. She panted out a laugh, her chest pressed against Harry’s. Harry looked up at her, the fairy lights catching in the strands of her soft caramel hair and a sprig of mistletoe suspended above them both. Louis stopped laughing, their breath intermingling in a small cloud of condensation between their mouths, and smiled.

“You look at me like you want to kiss me,” Louis said, the words tingling across Harry’s lips and chin.

“What if I do?” Harry asked, meeting Louis’ eyes with the same confidence she used in difficult business meetings when she knew she’d get her way in the end.

Louis moved her hand to Harry’s hip and squeezed through the thick layers of her coat. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as she arched into Louis’ touch, tilting her head and parting her lips as she waited to be kissed.

“We shouldn’t.”

“What?” Harry said, opening her eyes and watching as Louis pushed herself up off of the ice.

“The storm will clear soon,” Louis said, clearing her throat and offering Harry her hand. “It won’t be long until the airport opens up.”

Harry let herself be pulled upright, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Right,” she said absently. “The airport.”

“It’s easier if we just...”

She didn’t finish the thought, just guided Harry back to solid ground with a steady hand on her back.

The drive home was awkward, Harry staring hard out the window and trying to ignore the tightness in her throat and the way she’d started to think of the farm as home.

“We’re back,” Louis called out when they got inside, unwrapping her scarf and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Oh, good,” Liam called back, her voice a bit strained. “Um, Harriet, you’ve got guests.”

Harry looked questioningly at Louis who seemed to forget her decision to ignore Harry, mirroring her confusion. Harry peeled off her coat and followed Liam’s voice to the kitchen, her eyes going wide when she saw the trio at the table.

Niall was sitting with a cheery smile on his face while Veronica leaned towards Liam with a hand propped under her chin.

“Niall? Veronica?” Harry asked, frowning. “How did you get here? I thought all the flights were still down.”

“We found a way,” Niall shrugged, nodding towards the large wooden sled that was dripping melting snow onto the tiled floor.

“Is that a bumper sticker from Hooters?” Harry asked, squinting at one end of the sled.

“We made a few stops,” Niall told her. “It’s taken us five days to get here. I got hungry.”

“Harry?” Louis said, sliding into the kitchen behind her and looking curiously at the newcomers over her shoulder. “Are these your friends?”

“Yes,” Niall said just as Harry said “Employees.” Veronica was softly running her fingers over Liam’s forearm, making the other woman blush.

“I told them they could stay in the extra guest rooms,” Liam said, looking hopefully up at Louis.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis said, falling into her role as a hostess. “You both must be exhausted. I’ll make up some beds for you.”

She brushed her fingers over the small of Harry’s back as she retreated from the room and Harry’s spine tingled with the ghost of it as she disappeared up the stairs.

“So,” Niall said, taking a sip of the whiskey Liam must have poured him and grinning widely up at Harry. “You two been fuckin’?”


	8. The Christmas Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve!!!!! It's almost Santa time!! Also I am sick!! And this chapter and the ones after it were only partially written before I got sick and now my brain only half works so if the writing gets suddenly terrible I promise I tried my best! <3 <3 <3

“So you and the Christmas elf really aren’t fucking?” Niall asked, frowning skeptically.

“No, we aren’t,” Harry growled. “Will you shut up?”

She looked around, worried that Louis would hear, but the other woman still seemed to be outside. She’d left Harry and Niall to watch over the large ham in the oven while she worked on the lights outside. Every year on Christmas Eve Louis and Liam hosted a big party on the farm, inviting all their friends in town to join them for a potluck dinner. Liam was out back chopping piles of firewood to keep everyone warm while Veronica watched from a nearby stump.

“So is it a body snatcher situation then?” Niall asked.

“Let it go,” Harry groaned. She slumped down into one of the chairs.

“People don’t suddenly love Christmas that fast, Harriet,” Niall said, sitting across from her.

“I don’t love Christmas,” Harry denied.

“So you just love Louis,” Niall nodded sagely.

“Shut up!” Harry told him, rubbing her temples. “Can everybody just shut up about love for one day?”

That morning Harry had found Louis and Liam at the kitchen table, a tall stack of pancakes in front of Louis with three blown-out candles stuck in the top.

“There’s a  _ girl _ upstairs,” Liam had been hissing when Harry walked in.

“Harry’s been here all week,” Louis pointed out around the pancake in her mouth. “She’s a girl.”

Harry looked curiously between them, walking towards the steaming coffee pot on the counter.

“There’s a  _ woman _ ,” Liam amended, her eyes wide.

“Hey!” Harry frowned, turning away from the open cabinet. “I’m a woman.”

“You know what I mean!” Liam cried, collapsing into her seat at the table.

Louis reached out to pat her shoulder but there was syrup on her fingers and Liam wormed away from her touch.

“Harold,” Louis said, making Harry scramble for a moment with the mug in her hands. “Any words of advice for our dear Liam here? Any insights into the mind of Veronica?”

“Oh,” Harry said, furrowing her brows. “She likes... Pens? She’s always sketching at her desk. All of her office supplies are very organized.”

“She’s an artist,” Liam sighed, laying her head on the table. “I’m in love.”

“There there,” Louis had soothed, running her sticky fingers across Liam’s short hair.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Niall said from opposite Harry. “Love is all around you. It’s the time to embrace it.”

Harry just glared at him.

Together the five of them got the downstairs of the house and the yard outside ready for their guests, setting up games for the children and wine and cheese platters for the adults. Harry and Louis continued to dance around each other, always looking away whenever their eyes met. It felt like torture to Harry who had grown used to the comfortable way that they fit together since she’d arrived at the farm.

While Liam and Louis put the finishing touches on the buffet table Harry made her way upstairs to change.

Harry looked over all of the clothes she’d accumulated, all spread out on her bed along with her ruined rumpled pantsuit. She frowned at the array of thick sweaters and work pants. She didn’t have anything suitable for a Christmas party. She wasn’t sure she had anything suitable even in her wardrobe at home. Christmas wasn’t the time for sensibility and clean lines and for the first time in years Harry wanted to dress for the occasion.

She heard footsteps and turned to see Veronica stopped in the hallway outside. She looked from Harry to the mess of clothes on the bed and sighed.

“Follow me.”

Veronica had already settled comfortably into the guest room Louis had given her, makeup and foam rollers and earings scattered across the desk by the window. Niall was standing with his hand in her purse when they walked in and he looked up in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Veronica, do you have any more of those mints they gave us at Hooters?”

“I don’t,” she said, snatching her purse away from him.

Harry wandered over to the wardrobe where Veronica had already hung what must have been half of her closet.

“Let’s find a dress that’ll fit you.”

“Ooh, are we getting Harriet laid?” Niall asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve been waiting years for this.”

“No we are not,” Harry frowned at him. “I’m filing an HR complaint as soon as we get back to the office.”

“We spent five days on a sled for you!” Niall reminded her.

“I didn’t ask you to do that!”

“Here,” Veronica said, pulling out a white dress with a straight skirt. She held it up towards Harry to judge the fit. “Will this work?”

“No,” Niall told her, grabbing the hanger and returning it to the wardrobe before Harry could speak. “It’s boring. She needs something festive. Something to show Louis she wants to have her Christmas-y babies.”

“Hey!” Harry squawked. “I do not!”

“You’re right,” Veronica agreed, sifting through the dresses. She pulled out a long slinky silver dress and cocked her head.

“Hmm,” Niall frowned, holding it up to Harry’s neck. “It’s too much. She can’t look desperate, even if she is.”

“I am not desperate,” Harry growled.

“You are,” Niall and Veronica said in unison.

“She looks good in green,” Niall offered as Veronica plunged back into the wardrobe. “It brings out her eyes.”

“How about...” Veronica said, unveiling a third dress with a flourish. “This?”

“Ooh!” Niall grinned, admiring the fluttery chiffon that cascaded off the hanger. “With a red lip maybe?”

“Louis will die,” Veronica laughed.

Harry reached out to touch the soft fabric, feeling it slide between her fingers.

“She won’t,” she said sadly. “I should just wear what I have on. It’s no use really.”

“What are you talking about?” Veronica frowned.

“She doesn’t want me,” Harry told them, sitting on the bed. “We nearly kissed and she rejected me. She’ll never think of me as anything but a Grinch.”

“But you’re not a Grinch,” Niall said, sitting beside her. “You just need to show her that.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Harry sniffled.

“Then she’ll see everything she’s missing out on,” Veronica told her with a soft smile. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can’t prove how much you love Christmas looking like your cat was just run over by a Christmas tree truck.”

Harry let out a sob and Veronica and Niall exchanged a look of confused distress.

Veronica got to work on Harry’s makeup, adding touches of glitter to her eyes as she swept soft bristled brushes over her face while Niall wrestled with her curls. It had been a long time since Harry had worn her hair in anything but a sleek bun and it seemed to relish the freedom Niall was giving it, the strands springing up in bouncy waves and spirals. While they worked Harry couldn’t help her eyes from straying to Veronica’s small collection of nail polishes. Veronica often painted her nails with intricate designs but Harry had always had the same neat french tipped manicure.

“You should do the red,” Veronica told her, still concentrated on lining Harry’s full lips. “It’ll match your lipstick.”

By the time they zipped her into the dress and stood her in front of the mirror on the back of the door Harry felt like an old house that had been scrubbed and sanded and given a new coat of paint. She wasn’t the girl who had been chasing Louis around in clunky boots and oversized sweaters all week but she wasn’t anything like the woman in the chic pant suits who made angry phone calls and ate every meal at her desk. She felt like something different, something better. She smoothed her hands over the festive green dress, twisting a bit and watching the long skirt flare out around her legs in the mirror.

“It’s perfect,” she smiled. Niall and Veronica linked arms and watched proudly, admiring their work.

“Louis won’t know what hit her,” Veronica promised.

When the trio walked downstairs guests were already filtering in. Harry saw Mrs. Mullens pouring herself a glass of rosé while Cathy and Jim hung up their children’s coats. Liam was dressed in a Santa Claus costume, beard and all, and was sitting in a big armchair on the porch. A small line of children were waiting eagerly to tell her what they wanted for Christmas.

“Do you think she’ll let me sit on her lap once they’ve all had a turn?” Veronica asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Niall told her.

“Harriet!”

Harry spun around to see Sister Noel coming towards her with a bright smile on her face.

“Don’t you look darling?”

“Thank you, Sister,” Harry smiled, letting the older woman take her hand. “You look lovely. That’s a gorgeous broach.”

The nun waved a bashful hand over the sparkling gold wreath pinned to her blouse.

“Thank you, Dear,” she said. “I told Louis I would help her bring out the platters but one of the little ones has run off somewhere. Could you let her know for me?”

“Of course,” Harry told her. “Do you need any help finding them?”

“Oh we’ve had plenty of practice with Louis over the years,” the nun laughed. “I think we can handle just about anything at this point. Louis was just in the kitchen.”

She gave Harry’s hand one last pat and went off to gather up her brood and Harry turned towards the kitchen. She took a deep breath before entering.

“Sister Noel, if you can just grab- Oh.”

Louis spun on her heel and froze, a big bowl of mashed potatoes in her hands.

“Harry. You, um. You look nice.”

“So do you,” Harry said.

Louis was wearing a soft looking red sweater with a pair of plaid trousers, her hair styled for the first time that Harry had seen it. It was pushed up off her forehead in soft swirls, sharpening her cheekbones and making Harry’s knees feel weak.

“I like your hair like that,” Harry told her.

“Thank you. You too. I mean, yours. I like yours.”

“Thank you.”

They stood there in silence for a moment too long, taking each other in.

“Right,” Louis said, clearing her throat. “I’ve got to finish with the table.”

“Can I help?” Harry asked, reaching to take the bowl of potatoes from Louis.

“No,” Louis said, pulling it away protectively. “No, that’s alright. Just enjoy the party. You’re a guest.”

“Not your assistant?” Harry asked, regretting it when Louis’ gaze fell to the floor.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

She bustled past Harry towards the buffet, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

The party went swimmingly, the children charmed by Liam’s Santa Claus and run ragged by Louis and Niall who played with them out in the snow, chasing them around and building snow forts together. Harry was making small talk with Jay in the sitting room when Clara found her, crawling up onto her lap and falling asleep with her head on her shoulder. Harry looked questioningly at Jay but the other woman just smiled fondly at them both.

“Louis was always clinging to one of us when she was that age,” Jay told her.

“She must have been adorable as a kid,” Harry said, reaching over carefully to set her wine glass on the side table without jostling the sleeping child. She could see Louis through the window, being pelted with snowballs by a gaggle of children.

“She was,” Jay grinned. “But she could be quite the handful.”

“I’d imagine,” Harry laughed.

“There was one morning when she was about seven,” Jay told her, settling back into her chair. “We went in to wake up all the children and Louis wasn’t in her bed. We searched all over, started to panic. We were just about to organise a search party when she came through the back door, dragging a tree twice her size along with her. It was a week past Thanksgiving and she’d decided we needed a tree. She snuck out of bed before sunrise, found an axe in our tool box, and went out and chopped one down herself. I’ll never know what came over her but I had to go over and apologize to Mr. Bass nextdoor because it was one of his trees she’d stolen.”

“So nothing has changed then?” Harry grinned.

“No,” Jay smiled. “She’s always loved Christmas. The years we couldn’t afford presents she was always taking it upon herself to make them. She’d find a way to make a toy out of anything. Old boxes, bits of tinfoil, extra firewood. She never let the other children wake up Christmas morning with nothing to open and no tree to sit by.”

Harry watched outside as Louis was overtaken by the children, pushed down into the snow and laughing as she pretended to die dramatically. Harry couldn’t help the fond smile and curled over her lips at the sight.

Harry was listening to Kacey tell a story about a difficult customer she’d had at the diner when Sister Noel and Jay stood up and called for the party’s attention.

“Everybody, everybody,” Noel said, a look of shock on her face. “We’ve just received word! A donation has been made to the orphanage, a very - ”

She broke off, looking to Jay with tears in her eyes.

“A more generous donation than we could ever imagine,” Jay supplied.

“Praise Christmas,” Noel said with a hand on her heart.

“This donation,” Jay continued, “it will be more than enough to cover all of the children’s medical bills. We’ll be able to cure them all!”

“And then some!” Noel added.

“Yes,” Jay nodded. “With this sort of money we could buy a mansion for the children to live in!”

“That’s amazing!” Louis said, looking a bit tearful herself. “Where did it come from?”

“It says it came from a...” Jay squinted at the writing. “Zayn Malik?”

A murmur spread through the crowd as people asked each other if they knew a Zayn Malik.

“Zayn Malik?” Louis asked, frowning. “Who’s that?”

Veronica cleared her throat and all eyes turned to her, perched comfortably on Liam’s lap.

“I think I can explain.”

Everybody waited eagerly for her to elaborate.

“I am Zayn Malik.”

A chorus of gasps rang out.

“No you’re not,” Harry frowned. “I sign your tax forms. Your name’s Veronica.”

“It’s not,” Veronica/Zayn told her, pulling off her secretary glasses. “Not really.” She took a deep breath and Liam wrapped a steady arm around her waist. “I’m not the Veronica you know. For twenty-four years I was Princess Zayn Malik, the leader of Belgravania - a small European country that isn’t depicted on any maps. Then two Decembers ago your Veronica visited my country on vacation and we crossed paths. We realized that we were inexplicably identical and decided to trade places for a week, as anyone would do. I was caught in an arranged marriage at the time to a man I’d never be able to love but during our week in each other’s shoes Veronica fell in love with him. I asked her to continue as we were, with her in my place and me in hers, and she agreed. I am now free to live my life as I please and she now rules a small country and is married to a prince. I’m still able to call in a favor from time to time and she agreed that your orphanage was worthy of the royal money.”

The room was silent, everyone’s faces filled with shock.

“What?” Harry asked, an incredulous look on her face. “No way.”

“It’s true,” Niall said, standing.

More gasps rang out.

“I noticed right away that she was a different person. Her accent was different and she didn’t know the filing system at all.”

“I think I would have noticed if one of my employees was suddenly a different person,” Harry said.

“You didn’t,” Niall and Zayn said in unison.

“Thank you, Princess Zayn,” Sister Noel said, taking Zayn’s hand. “Your generosity will change these children’s lives for the better.”

The party was winding down, most of the families piled back in their cars to get the children in bed before Santa Claus arrived. Niall was snooping through the drawers in the kitchen, looking for a nightcap, while Zayn and Liam huddled together giggling softly on the couch. Harry pulled on her coat and stepped outside towards the gazebo behind the house. Louis was perched on the railing of it, glowing beneath the Christmas lights.

“Hey,” Harry said, stepping carefully over the icy ground.

“Harry,” Louis smiled, looking down at her. The joy of Christmas and the two glasses of wine she’d had with dinner seemed to have softened her discomfort around Harry.

Harry stepped up into the gazebo and Louis turned her body towards her.

“I haven’t wished you a happy birthday yet,” Harry said, coming up beside her. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a little bundle wrapped in festive Christmas paper. “Here.”

“For me?” Louis asked, her face brightening.

She pulled the gift onto her lap and undid the bright red ribbon, tearing at the paper and letting it fall as she held up the socks inside. They were garishly festive, an eyesore of red and green with sparkly baubles hanging from the top and little pictures of Santa and candy canes and reindeer decorating them all over.

“I know socks are supposed to be the worst gift,” Harry explained, looking at them over Louis’ shoulder, “but I saw those in a shop and they reminded me of you.”

“I love them,” Louis told her sincerely. “They’re my new favorite pair.”

She swung her legs back over the railing and stood up, pulling Harry into a hug.

There was still Christmas music filtering out through the house and they began to sway together, still wrapped in each others arms. Harry’s heels gave her an extra couple of inches of height and she rested her cheek against Louis’ temple, breathing in the same warm scent that had permeated her borrowed sweaters. Louis laughed softly when the song switched over to  _ Silver and Gold _ , humming along in Harry’s ear as they slowly spun around together.

Harry didn’t notice the tear sliding down her cheek until it landed on Louis’ cheekbone and the other woman pulled back at the sudden moisture.

“What’s wrong?” Louis frowned, reaching up to gently wipe away the other tears on Harry’s cheeks. Harry caught Louis’ wrists in her hands and shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling slightly. “I’ve just- I’ve never been happy on Christmas. But I’m happy here, with you.”

“So am I,” Louis told her, eyes flicking down to her lips. She leaned closer, rolling up on the balls of her feet and pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry gasped and pulled her closer, releasing her wrists as Louis slid her hands inside of Harry’s coat and around her back. She reconnected their lips and Harry slumped forward to give her easier access.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” she said against Louis’ mouth, clinging to her shoulders.

“I do,” Louis told her, pressing a kiss to her jaw and pulling back. “I was afraid. I didn’t want to get my heart broken. It’s no use though. I think you’ll break my heart either way. I might as well enjoy it, right?”

“Can we just pretend?” Harry asked, pressing their foreheads together. “Can we pretend that the storm will never pass and I’ll stay here with you forever?”

“Please,” Louis whispered, crushing their lips together once more. She kissed down Harry’s neck and Harry tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering open to see the largest collection of mistletoe she’d ever seen strung up across the top of the gazebo.

By the time they stumbled inside Niall, Zayn and Liam had already gone up to bed and the Christmas tree was the only light source left on. Harry tore off her coat and tugged Louis towards the plush rug in front of the tree. They fell towards the ground together, pulling at each others clothes between kisses. Harry lifted Louis’ sweater up over her head and marveled at the expense of golden skin revealed, brushing adoring kisses to the constellation of freckles on her shoulders. She leaned down to press her lips to the soft swell of Louis’ belly, opening her mouth and biting softly until Louis tugged her back up by the shoulders. She felt Louis’ hands at her back, dragging the zipper of her dress down and slipping inside to caress her lower back.

They spread each other out, bare skin glowing like sunlight through honey in the light of the tree, coaxing soft sighs and moans from each others mouths as snow fell gently outside the window.


	9. The Greatest Christmas Of All

“Hey, Louis,” Liam said, walking into the living room. “Have you seen - ?”

She stopped with a little yelp when a bleary eyed Harry emerged from the mass of blankets of the couch. Louis rubbed her eyes, yawking as she pulled the quilt up over her sports bra. Harry sat up from where she’d been sleeping with her head on Louis’ chest and blinked up at Liam. Louis’ sweater was falling off Harry’s shoulder and revealing a mess of love bites across her neck and chest.

“Good morning,” she croaked, pushing the nest of wild curls out of her face.

“Oh! Um, hi,” Liam said, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Did you two - ? Er. Merry Christmas?”

“Merry Christmas,” Harry and Louis parroted back automatically.

Louis leaned over and pressed a kiss to one of the darker marks on Harry’s shoulder. She’d spent a long time the night before sucking marks into Harry’s skin as if placing her claim on the other woman. Harry hoped she’d never let them fade.

“Merry Christmas,” Louis whispered against her neck.

Liam cleared her throat.

“Veron- er, Zayn is looking for you, Harriet.”

Harry sighed and slumped back against the couch.

“Come on,” Louis said, kissing her cheek before leaning down to look for her trousers in the pile of blankets and clothes. Harry kept her sweater on, wrapping one of the quilts around herself to keep her bare legs warm while Louis pulled on her undershirt.

They found Niall and Zayn in the kitchen, standing with their suitcases packed and their coats on.

“Are you leaving?” Harry asked, frowning.

“The storm passed in the night,” Zayn said. “All the airports have reopened.”

Harry looked out the window and saw that the sky had cleared, just a dusting of snow left on the ground.

“Oh,” she said, looking to Louis whose face had twisted up in a frown.

“Our flight leaves in an hour,” Zayn said. “You’d better run upstairs and get dressed. Corporate called first thing this morning and said they have big news for you when we get back.”

“They’re promoting you,” Niall told her. “You’re gonna be head of the company!  _ Business Lady Monthly  _ wants to do a whole feature about you! You’ll be on the cover of their January issue!”

“Oh...” Harry said. She tried to meet Louis’ eyes but the other woman was looking resolutely at her feet.

“Aren’t you excited?” Niall asked. “It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“I guess it is,” Harry frowned. “I just...”

Louis still wouldn’t look at her. She reached out to touch her hand but Louis pulled away like she’d been burnt.

“You’d better hurry,” she said icily. “You wouldn’t want to miss your flight.”

“But, Louis - ” Harry said, trying to follow her as she moved down the hall.

“Good luck with your business, Harriet,” Louis told her, stomping towards the back door.

“Louis!” Harry cried, watching the door slam shut as Louis disappeared into the trees.

“Come on,” Zayn said softly, pulling Harry towards the stairs. “Kacey said she’d give us a ride to the airport.”

Harry wiped the tears from her eyes and let herself be guided up to her room. Carefully she folded up all of her borrowed clothes from the week, taking special care with the sweaters Louis had lent her, and slid back into her rumpled green pant suit. It felt wrong on her now, like she was a snake forced back into the skin it had shed. She left her hair elastic on the nightstand, gathering her purse and her coat and meeting Niall and Zayn at the front door.

“You’re an idiot,” Liam said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the door of Harry’s room. Louis was sitting in the center of her bed, cradling one of her own sweaters in her lap as if she could soak up some of Harry’s essence that it had absorbed.

“Leave me alone,” Louis sniffled, holding the sweater tighter.

“You’re in love with her,” Liam said, coming to sit on the end of the bed.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m in love with her,” Louis said petulantly. “She’d going back to her life and her business and she’s never going to think about me again. I should be doing the same.”

“It matters because she’s in love with you too,” Liam told her. “You’d know that if you just gave her the chance to tell you.”

“If she loved me she wouldn’t have left,” Louis argued.

“She left because you made her,” Liam told her sternly. “Are you really gonna let her go not knowing?”

Louis groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

“You could still catch her before the plane takes off,” Liam said, pulling out the keys to the truck.

“Do you really think it’s worth it?” Louis asked, frowning.

“Do you?”

Louis grabbed the keys and ran towards the door.

The universe seemed to be working against her when she turned the key in the ignition and there was nothing but a dull click. Louis banged her hand against the steering wheel, her heart pounding in desperation.

“Please,” she begged under her breath, turning the key again.

Still the engine refused to start.

She leaned her head against the wheel, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Please,” she said again.

A loud howl made her jump.

Outside in the snow, surrounding the truck, was a whole pack of wolves. The largest one was staring through the windshield right at her, a calm look on his face. Louis opened the door with trembling hands and stepped cautiously forward. The wolf came up to meet her and she tensed as he approached. She held out a tentative hand and he sniffed at it before pressing against her, letting her pet down his flank.

Louis took a shaky breath and climbed onto his back.

“ _ Flight 2890 is now boarding _ ,” came a voice through the intercom.

Harry sighed and sat up.

“At least you don’t have to worry about checking any luggage,” Niall tried to joke.

Harry just sent him a look.

“C’mon,” Zayn said, gathering up her own suitcase. “Let’s just get boarded and then we can all relax.”

They went towards the gate where a small line was already forming. Zayn pulled out their three tickets and they moved forward toward the stewardess.

“Here’s our tickets,” Zayn said when they got to the front, handing the woman the stack of papers. She scanned them with a small device and went to hand them back.

“Alright, you can go right- Oh!” she said, looking somewhere behind them.

They could hear a few gasps ring out through the crowd and they turned to see what was causing them.

All through the airport people were parting as Louis made her way towards them, riding on the back of a large white wolf.

“Louis?” Harry choked out, stepping away from the gate.

Louis and the wolf came closer, Louis dismounting when they were just a few feet away.

“Thank you,” Louis told the wolf, pressing her hand against his neck.

The wolf nodded in understanding and turned around, running back out of the airport and disappearing in the distance with one last howl.

“Louis, how did you - ?”

“Don’t go,” Louis said, grabbing Harry’s hand in her own. “Don’t go back to business. Stay here with me, and Christmas!”

“Louis, I - ”

“I’m in love with you,” Louis said, her eyes big and pleading. “I tried so hard not to fall in love with you but it didn’t work. I’m in love with you, Harriet Styles.”

“I’m in love with you too,” Harry said, her eyes glistening. “I don’t care about business anymore. I only care about you, and Christmas! I called corporate on the drive over and I declined their offer. I quit. I’m never going to do business again!”

“Really?” Louis asked breathlessly.

“I had Zayn change our flight,” Harry told her. “We’re not going back to Businesstown. I’m going to Holmes Chapel to be with my family. For Christmas!”

“Will you come back after?” Louis asked. “To be with me?”

“Yes!” Harry cried, throwing her arms around Louis’ neck and crushing their lips together. They kissed passionately, their joyful tears mixing on their cheeks.

“It worked!” Niall shouted gleefully. “My Christmas quest! It’s been fulfilled!”

Harry pulled back and saw that Niall was glowing faintly, his ears suddenly long and pointed.

“What?” Harry asked, still intertwined with Louis. “Niall, why are you glowing?”

“Zayn isn’t the only one of us with a secret identity,” he said, clicking his heels together. In the blink of an eye his coat and jeans transformed into a bell-spangled little costume.

“Wha- wha- wha- what?” Harry Louis and Zayn all said, their eyes widening as they took him in.

“That’s right,” Niall grinned, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m the Christmas Spirit!”

“Wha- wha- wha- what?” Harry Louis and Zayn said again.

“Santa Claus felt bad that Harry was always so sad on Christmas so he sent me down here himself to help her find love!” Niall declared. “He told me he had an illegitimate daughter somewhere in Canada that was destined to be with her so I came to get you two together!”

“Daughter?” Louis asked, gasping. “Does that mean - ?”

“I’ve spent the past four years living as Niall Horan to get hired at your company and gain your trust,” Niall told Harry.

“Can we go back to the Santa Claus thing please?” Louis asked.

“I’ve waited years for the perfect time to push you two together,” Niall continued. “I just had to get you in Canada, and luckily the North Wind owed me a favor. All it took was a blizzard to make you love each other!”

“Is my father Santa Claus?” Louis asked, her brows furrowed.

“Does this mean that Louis and I are soulmates?” Harry asked, taking Louis’ hand.

“Even better,” Niall grinned. “ _ Christmas _ soulmates! The purest kind!”

“Wow!” Harry breathed, turning to Louis. “Did you hear that, Lou? We’re Christmas soulmates!”

“I’m still a little bit hung up on the Santa dad thing,” Louis said. “But yeah, soulmates!”

They kissed again and Niall watched tearfully, proud of his own hard work.

“Does this mean you’re going back to the North Pole?” Zayn asked him. “I’ve liked sharing a cubicle with you these past few years.”

“Nah,” Niall smiled. “I’m gonna stay for a while. I’ve been dating Shawn down in marketing for a few months and he just asked me to move in with him. Maybe we could have you over for dinner some time?”

“ _ Last call for flight 2890 to Holmes Chapel _ .”

Harry pressed another kiss to Louis’ lips and pulled back.

“I’ve got to go,” she told her, “but I’ll be back. I swear, I will.”

“Go on,” Louis smiled, giving her one last peck. “You can’t miss your flight.”

Louis watched her walk back to the gate, pausing just before she entered. She turned back and smiled tearfully at the girl she loved.

“Merry Christmas, Louis.”

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!! I am still sick and have no judgement of what is good and bad at the moment so hopefully this isn't fully the worst thing I have ever written. If it is at least it's festive! There's a short epilogue that will be posted as soon as I finish it so possibly later today or tomorrow!  
Thank you everyone who's left comments, they're all very sweet! I hope all of you have a lovely Christmas if you celebrate it and if you don't but have somehow still read all of this I love you and hope you have a nice day either way!


	10. Epilogue: And A Happy New Year!

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“She’s coming back.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Louis asked, looking glumly at the slice of previously frozen pizza in her lap.

“She will,” Liam assured her, taking a swig from her bottle of beer.

On the TV in front of them was a live feed from New York City, a huge crowd of people gathered in Times Square to rein in the new year.

“I haven’t heard from her since Christmas day,” Louis reminded her, slumping back against the cushions.

“You would if you’d thought to exchange numbers,” Liam pointed out. “I’ve talked to Zayn every day.”

“Well we can’t all be you and Zayn,” Louis said petulantly. “Has she mentioned anything about Harry? Or me? Or me and Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Liam shrugged. “Harry’s been at her mom’s house and Zayn’s been helping Niall move.”

Louis took a bite of her pizza, frowning at the TV while she chewed.

“I just want her to come back,” she said when the performer on the screen finished his song and the crowd broke into applause. “It feels weird now without her here. I got used to her.”

“So did I,” Liam agreed. She glanced down at her phone and swallowed the last of her beer. “I’m gonna grab another,” she said, standing up.

Louis nodded vaguely, staring through the screen and thinking hard.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about Harry since she’d left. Since she’d arrived on the farm, really. Harry had so easily woven herself into their lives and without her there the house felt empty. The dogs seemed lonely without her and the kitchen felt quiet without her complaining about Louis’ music or her taste in hot beverages or whatever she’d chosen to complain about that day. Louis had started to wear Harry’s hair elastic around her wrist just to have something of hers to touch. She missed her terribly, wanted her back in her sight. Liam was starting to get sick of her.

She heard Liam walk back into the room and the dogs perked up their heads in their dog beds, tails thumping against the floor.

“Did you bring one for me?” Louis asked, still looking at the screen.

Louis felt someone flick her ear and she yelped, whipping around and freezing.

Standing in the dim light of the TV and the Christmas tree that was still up was Harry. She was grinning, rocking back and forth on her heels - low ones, Louis noticed. Little oxford heels with baggy trousers and a soft frumpy cardigan, topped with a string of pearls around her neck and a slash of lipstick. She had a large suitcase at her side.

Louis crawled up on her knees, the pizza falling forgotten to the floor for the dogs to scavenge later, and leaned over the back of the couch.

“You’re back?” she asked, breathless.

“I am,” Harry nodded, still smiling.

“Where’s Liam?”

“Shagging Zayn on the front porch,” Harry giggled.

“Did you have a nice time at your mom’s?”

“I did,” Harry told her, fiddling with her fingers. “She’s happy for me. That I’m happy. She always hated business. And you? Did you work out the stuff about your father?”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded. “Niall put us in contact. Turns out he’s got a lot of kids all over the world. He said I’m his favorite though. He might make me his successor some day.”

“You’d be good for that,” Harry said.

“I hope so.”

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“Louis,” Harry said, setting her hands at her sides. “Are you going to kiss me?”

In the blink of an eye Louis scrambled over the back of the couch and pulled Harry into her arms, slotting their mouths together. Harry melted into the embrace, threading her fingers through Louis’ hair and parting her lips with a sigh.

“Missed you so much,” Louis told her between kisses. “Was going crazy with it.”

“Me too,” Harry nodded, tilting her head back and letting Louis start on replacing the love bites that had begun to fade. “Gemma had to ban your name at the table. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I love you,” Louis said, nipping her neck before straightening up.

“I love you too,” Harry panted lightly against her lips.

“You’re here for good, aren’t you?” Louis asked, smoothing her thumb over Harry’s jaw.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Harry answered, pressing a sweet kiss to Louis’ lips.

“Forever then,” Louis smiled. She pulled back, slipping a hand into her own back pocket. “You know if I do end up taking over for my dad it’s encouraged to have a partner.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile curling over her lips.

“Yeah,” Louis grinned. “It’s a two person operation.”

“You’d need some help,” Harry agreed.

“What do you say?” Louis asked, holding a small velvet box between them. “You wanna be my Mrs. Claus someday?”

“Yes!” Harry cried, throwing her arms around Louis’ neck and kissing her senseless.

Harry held out her left hand, each finger adorned with a ring except for the third, and watched as Louis slid the sparkling diamond into place.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry beamed, her eyes glistening.

“I got it on Boxing Day,” Louis told her, pulling her closer. “I’ve been carrying it around ever since just waiting for you to come back so I could give it to you.”

“I’m never leaving again,” Harry promised, capturing Louis’ lips in a kiss just as the clock struck midnight and people around the world erupted into cheers.

The next Christmas found them both in white, their hands clasped together in front of all their friends and family. Niall and Zayn stood beaming behind Harry and Liam pulled the pocket square from her blazer, dabbing at her eyes from her place beside Louis.

Louis’ father stood tall between them, laughing jollily.

“I now pronounce you Christmas wife and Christmas wife!” he declared, spreading his arms wide. “You may now kiss your Christmas bride!”

The crowd cheered as Harry and Louis sealed their marriage with a kiss, quickly getting lost in each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Harry whispered when they parted, pressing a peck to Louis’ cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Darling,” Louis grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished!! This chapter was supposed to be up much sooner but I got very sick last week. This works out okay though since it keeps up with the format of things happening the day they're posted. The post for this fic with the cover is [here](https://lesbianiconharrystyles.tumblr.com/post/189413286012/thats-a-christmas-to-me-by-flowercrownfemme) !  
I hope you all had a lovely december and a lovely year and a lovely decade and I hope the next one is even better! <3 <3 <3


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